February 19: Good Subjects for Pictures, Successful Home, Being Human

Merton's father looking to build a permanent home . . .

We rented an apartment in a three-story house at the edge of the town, on the Place de la Condamine, where they held the cattle market.  But Father planned to build a house of his own, and soon he bought some land nearby on the lower slopes of the big hill that closed off the western arm of the valley of the Bonnette.  On top of the hill was a little chapel, now abandoned, called Le Calvaire, and indeed up the rocky path through the vineyards behind our land there had once been a series of shrines, marking the fourteen Stations of the Cross between the town and the top of the hill.  But that kind of piety had died away in the nineteenth century:  there were not enough good Catholics left to keep it alive.

And then when Father began to make plans for building his house, we traveled all over the countryside looking at places, and also visiting villages where there might be good subjects for pictures.

I don't have much time this evening for deep introspection.  In fact, in a few minutes, I will be heading downstairs from my university office to teach my Wednesday evening class.  I will say that Merton's father goes about finding a home for himself and his son in a very businesslike way.  He has very specific ideas of what he's looking for, including close proximity to possible subjects for his painting.

It's difficult to "plan" a happy, successful home.  In fact, I'd say it's darn near impossible.  You can include all kinds of luxuries in a home that may help in creating "happiness," but having a loving family home is a little more than it's closeness to a church or the sea.  It's about what goes on inside the walls of the home, as well.

I've spent most of my adult life trying to foster a loving, nurturing home for my wife and children.  It's what I grew up with--imperfect parents doing the best that they could for their children.  No home is perfect, I know.  All families have some level of dysfunction.  It goes with being human.  As of this moment, I'm still striving to sustain a home that is full of love and compassion and safety.  That's been a tall order this past year-and-a-half.

However, tonight, as I'm planning my descent into the classroom, I will say that I don't think I've sucked at being a father and husband.

Saint Marty isn't perfect, but he's doing the best he can.