Shock Absorber
My decades old impulse to call him when something big happens surfaced a couple weeks ago. I was leaving the parking lot of Kroger when a police situation developed. It was dramatic, terrifying and left me completely trapped. Feeling the shock, I grabbed the phone to call Dad. Taking a deep breath, I paused. He is no longer there at the other end of the phone. Just two months ago, he left for heaven. He would have been 90 today as I write this reflection. I miss him.
From the time I was young, Dad was there to catch me. When I was 19 and totaled my car, I called Dad. When I lost my credit card and panicked because I couldn’t buy my books at college, I called Dad. Even well into my adult years I’d call him. When my furnace broke, when my husband lost his job, when the kids were sick, when I was sick, when the house flooded, when my daughter had a bad car accident, I called Dad. In addition, there are those moments too personal to mention here that I called Dad. He functioned as my earliest shock absorber. Always there to buffer the blows, soften the impact, ease the tension and provide support in oh so many ways. In my most vulnerable states he kept me safe, helped me pick up the pieces, pull myself together and continue on.
Dad’s early life was fashioned by shocking details. His mother, destitute and abandoned by her husband, had little choice but to put her four year old son in foster care and ultimately release him for adoption. It was during the Great Depression, she had many children but no means to care for them all. She was in a desperate and shocking situation. Two years later Dad was adopted by two loving people, my Grandma and Grandpa, who adored him and became the shock absorbers in his young life. I am so grateful for all of them, even the one who abandoned his family. It humbles me to know that my existence, as well as that of my six siblings, four children, four (almost five) grandchildren and several nieces and nephews came forth from such a sad and tragic situation. But isn’t that true in some way for all of us? Somewhere in the history of our families we find (or would find) shocking details followed by the discovery of the shock absorbers. The ones who lay down their very lives so others can live. Out of death comes life. I believe I come from a long line of shock absorbers and have assumed the role myself. This is one of the basic job requirements for parents, grandparents, extended family, friends and communities of faith.
Christmas is the celebration of the incarnation of the greatest of shock absorbers. Everything about the story of the birth of Jesus is dreadful. Our imaginations can’t help but be transfixed by the thought of a long journey on a donkey while nine months pregnant, having to give birth in a cold stable in an occupied country, away from family and friends, using a dirty manger for a crib, and having to flee from an angry King who wanted to kill the baby. In this story, God came into a cold, heartless world. Shocking, shocking, shocking.
If it weren’t for the fact that we know how the story goes would we even find the Nativity scene heartwarming at all? Probably not. We’d find it disturbing and unappealing. But I think it’s meant to disturb us. It’s meant to force us to contemplate suffering around us and maybe consider how we can function as shock absorbers. We are called to go beyond our comfort zones, to the most vulnerable “babies in the manger”, to seek them out and bring them gifts.
The one who heals, born in such tragic circumstances is eventually brutally crucified. In the face of such violence, he counters with nonviolence, with mercy and love. All of this story should shake us up. Jesus willingly took upon himself the sin of the world and liberated humanity from the bonds of sin and death. We must ask ourselves, as the ones who follow His Way, how can we live like this?
My Dad’s death was like a sonic blast. Although I saw it coming, it still catapulted me into a free fall. Dad was my first major shock absorber but he wasn’t the last. I feel so fortunate to have my faith, my husband, my children, my siblings and friends who all help to absorb the shock of losing him. In that parking lot at Kroger, I pivoted my impulse and called my baby sister.
As we gaze upon our Nativity scenes this Christmas Season may the Spirit of Holiness captivate us and illuminate those in our path, in our families, neighborhoods, schools, and places of work who are most vulnerable. May our hearts be cracked wide open and may we discover the gift of serving as their shock absorbers.
Merry Christmas.
Mary Garlow
Director of Faith Formation
mgarlow@olqm-parish.org
