I Can’t HEAR Anything

I almost got a traffic ticket this morning.

I rushed out the door today, the sounds of a baby crying and a tiff with my husband ringing in my ears. I absently gave the babysitter rote instructions while stuffing my crap in my bag, in a hurry to get out the door.

Work is piling up and the date of my surgery is careening toward me. My mom comes in on a late-afternoon flight today (please, God and weather willing), and tomorrow Shaggy has a well-baby visit that has to be squeezed in before I can’t walk without crutches.

I waved at the baby, hurried to the car and climbed in the driver’s seat. The next thing I knew, red and blue lights were flashing in my mirror.

I woke up from my reverie, dreaming anxiously about general anaesthesia and deadlines, and looked around. Was I speeding? Shit, was that a school zone?

I reached for my wallet. Where my license and registration and insurance cards live.

No wallet.

I rolled the window down, and the handsome officer asked me if I knew why he pulled me over. I shook my head, honestly not sure, and he told me I’d blown a stop sign.

A stop sign.

On a route I drive every single day. A stop sign that I have stopped at, automatically, probably 1,000 times.

I couldn’t help it; I burst into tears. It was completely without guile. I sobbed the whole time he was back in the cruiser, thinking of how much this was going to cost, on top of the huge utility bill and the leaking bathtub, and how stupid could I be to leave my wallet behind?

A stop sign. I blew a stop sign.

The cop was sweet, and only gave me a warning. I cried all the way home, back to the house to get my wallet. I cried when I realized I didn’t have any cash. I cried when the doctor called my cell phone. I cried when I stopped at Mr. C’s office to borrow $5 so I could get coffee at the cafe.

***

One of the movie industry’s most famous flops was “Heaven’s Gate.” An over-ambitious film by the director of “The Deer Hunter,” it brought down one of history’s most famous studios. United Artists lives on today, in a different form, but it was almost decimated by the failure of this one single film.

A long time ago, when life allowed me the luxury of reading, I devoured a book about UA and it’s disasterous relationship with Heaven’s Gate. So much of this book can be applied to other areas of life.

Be cautious. Be aware. Be present.

At the first screening of the final film, the players involved in the production keep talking about the audio. It is all they can say. They are so blindsided and dazed, that all they can do is repeat:

I can’t HEAR anything!

***

When I get scared or life gets too hard to negotiate on my own, or even with support from those I love, I often turn to prayer.

My prayers were childlike before I met my husband, whose relationship with Catholicism is much more sophisticated and rigorous than mine. Educated by Jesuits, he taught me that a relationship with God is not like sending a letter to Santa.

We have free will; we are independent actors. God is in us, but we cannot presume to know how or why. All we can do is pray for guidance. We ask questions and then listen hard for our hearts to answer.

After my father died, I started praying to him. It began as more of a conversation, a way to talk to him without seeing him.

But then I started listening. And often, I found answers inside me. Surprising answers. I am walking a path unexpected. Until just recently, I was coming to terms with that path, even embracing the unconventional life my husband and I chose.

Lately, though, the questions are harder.

And I just can’t hear anything. I can’t hear anything at all.