Pitch the Perfect

A Hit of Hope

I never know which Betsy is going to show up.

Will it be the self-confident Betsy or the uncertain one? The warm and grounded Betsy or the one who wants to hide in a cave?

My insides often feel like a vending machine strapped inside a Tilt O’ Whirl. Life sends me spinning, and it’s a mystery, which Betsy will pop out of my mouth.

Which is why I laughed out loud when I recently read that one of the main character traits of the enlightened ones—think Buddha, Jesus, Mother Teresa—is steadfastness.

I am about as far from being steadfast as a platypus is from being a Playboy Bunny.

The Oxford English Dictionary says that steadfastness is “to establish” and “render stable.” There are supports in place that strengthen, a settling of what is weak or wavering, a calmness to the mind.

Of course, those are the qualities which the holy ones possess, and those are the very things I can’t seem to do.

The OED offers another definition of steadfastness: “to give a fixed abode to.” I felt myself melt into that possibility. That kind of steadfastness evokes a sense of sanctuary. A place that is safe, holy, quiet, and always there when you need it. There would be candles. And so much light.

Steadfastness would be easy in a place like that, right? Even I could do it.

For a time, maybe, but there are always diagnoses, death, and droughts; loves who run away and empty bank accounts. Each and every human being is starring in an epic story, and we often don’t know what is going on in someone else’s life, behind the closed doors of their “fixed abode.” We don’t know the struggles, fights, silences, or pain that the ones dwelling inside might be facing.

But isn’t that the point of steadfastness? That you are at peace with whatever is happening right now? No turgid waters, no ruffled feathers. A constant calm and quiet stillness no matter what is knocking at your front door.

Is Sainthood Hack #1 never to struggle at all?

I don’t know about the Buddha, but both Jesus and Mother Teresa struggled with their paths. Jesus wanted the cup of suffering to pass, and Mother Teresa had doubts about God, not just for days or years, but for entire decades of her life. Until her private journals were released, it wasn’t known that behind her calm and loving exterior, she struggled with overwhelming despair and doubt inside the darkest rooms of her heart.

Is Sainthood Hack #2 to pretend really, really well?

I sure as hell hope not.

We must resist the temptation to assume that the holy ones somehow learned how to quit being human. That they quit feeling or struggling with what to do, how to live. As you may know, Mother Teresa’s legacy has become troubled, because she was more human than most thought she was.

Turns out it’s hard to be a saint, so is that really what we should aim for?

A friend of mine once told me, “When someone says to me, ‘My mother was a saint,’ my impulse is to reply, ‘Oh, so you had an unhappy childhood, then?’”

Is Sainthood Hack #3 don’t try to be a saint at all?

Because the only time, the only time, you can remain absolutely steadfast is when you are dead.

Otherwise, there we all are, each in our own fixed abode, doing what we can to live, breathe, love, survive and shine as our narrative bumps into everyone else’s narrative, and oh my, doesn’t that make a mess?

We are all characters, and sometimes, we are actually trying to work on our character, whether that is visible to the outside world or not. And that is the most important thing, isn’t it? In this case, effort does matter. So does grit. And a willingness to fail.

Maybe it doesn’t matter which of our multiple selves shows up. Maybe the whole point to steadfastness, to strengthening, to settling is nothing short of stepping forward, into the ever-shifting dance of joy and sorrow, love and grief, community and loneliness and doing whatever we can to find as much balance and evenness and joy and delight as we do.

Let’s forget about trying to be holy. And perfect. Let’s make mistakes audaciously. And love the hell out of how hard we are all trying. No scuttling about. No hiding in the shadows. “Ta-da! Look at how human I am!!”

Be fragile. Be free. Be warm. Be wild. Be anything. Be everything. But most of all, be you, the human who is alive. And from that fixed-and-vibrant-and-real-as-rocks abode, live light.