Of The Prodigal Son and Toilet Tanks

 Post-hike days are an interesting miasma of impressions, built up from a collection of things that I was thinking of or read prior to leaving, three days on the trail, and the post day events which bring me back to reality like a meteor plunging to Earth.

This is complicated a bit this time by the fact that my "reality" is much different than it has been in past returns:  there are no work related issues to return (instead, things to actively be avoided).  So it leaves a great more time for other things to fill the space.

Two things have filled today's space:  Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son and toilet tanks.

I have completed reading The Return of the Prodigal Son, and to commenter Bob's thoughts, it is every bit as powerful as he described.  That said, I want to give it its full due as a stand alone review.  What I will say - relevant to my thoughts now - is that Nouwen has a very thought provoking (dare I say confrontational, presented in so gentle manner) about taking our place in the world as Jesus to others - the reflection of God in the father of the Prodigal Son's story.  It was a thought that left me thinking of my own role in the world.

Which was, strangely enough, interrupted by cleaning toilet tanks.

I first noticed a small black spot behind the main bathroom at the my parents' house.  That was odd, I thought, and then opened the tank top.  A coated inky blackness greeted me.  Mold, apparently.

When it arrived, I do not know.  To be fair, I want to say I had only opened the toilet tanks - at least this one - last month.  None the less, I checked all of them - and they were all the same.  Which necessitated a trip to town to get bleach, lots of white vinegar, sponges, and a new toilet brush.

Labor was, of course, provided by yours truly.

As I sat there, moving from tank to tank scrubbing away, spraying, rinsing, spraying again, letting things soak, I had a fair amount of time to think, this time specifically about my presence here and the future.

This has been the third near miss we have had here in terms of the house.  The first, last November, was the small leak in the roof that created a damp spot in the ceiling that I fixed and repainted.  The second was the same leak, now manifested to much more of the ceiling and water on the floor - no real floor damage, but that was only a fluke of the fact that I came right after it had happened (at least I was able to get the roof leak that time).  The third time is now this issue with the toilets - and, by the way, the toilet in the master bathroom is now leaking when it is flushed on the floor, so that will need to be attended to.

Yes, I know that it can be controlled: drain the tanks when I leave, put something in for the residual water.  But it points to a larger issue:  in reality, someone really needs to be here full time.

To be completely fair, this house represents not just my own sentimentality:  it represents value in an estate which is not mine, an estate that needs to be managed on behalf of someone else (my mother) with some level of fiduciary responsibility - said a different way, the house should not be worth less just because someone is not here to keep a pulse on the state of the house.  In each of the cases above, had someone been here these problems would have been dealt with much more quickly.

Which is where The Return of The Prodigal Son comes back in.

Without stealing too much thunder from an actual book review, part of item that Nouwen deals with is the idea of accepting our role in being a conduit of God's love - by growing up and into such a role.  Society, politics, culture - all seek to pull us into a mode of dependence on others to make decisions for us.  We need to see life clearly, even as work to see life through God's eyes in being conduits of His unconditional love.

The question is if my inability to move here is creating a situation where the house and thus the estate is suffering.  Because that would represent me being selfish to the point of putting my own dreams or desires - not even needs - first.

No decisions have been made at all, but I am definitely re-examining where I am in the course of life. On the one hand, I would deeply like to be here.  On the other hand, my life is in a transition where - frankly - even being here one week a month may not be possible.  Is it right to impede the estate for that?  Or better to ensure that at some level the value is being preserved and perhaps even income being added to the estate?  My mother has insurance, but there is always the risk that it will not be paid past her need for it.

If that is the case, does it mean never?  Of course not.  One thing has become painfully clear to me: that when it is time to move back, there will be no question about it.  It could be next week.  It could be years from now.  Either way, does it matter?

I do not have answers of course, just new thoughts in search of a method to consider them.  But if I am being honest - truly honest - I am acting in a way that in one light, I have no right to:  I am making ownership decisions as if I had them, which I do not.   And my selfishness should never be the grounds for the destruction of anything.