To question perspective is postmodern and relevant. A prof described history as an act of interpretation; he often repeated, “History is deciding the center from the margins.” Reading history, it would be easy to believe that there were centuries that women were fewer than five percent of the population. Now historians shift focus to what has been (considered) periphery for millennia– women and other races. The shift is somewhat difficult because the bias is two fold. Historians (mostly white males) have been more interested in white males; there is more evidence and material available about white men to research. I’m a fan of this shift because it provides a more accurate understanding and vivid picture of how things were in the past. This shift in focus does revise history somewhat, but doesn’t rewrite it. It provides additional information and broadens the picture, providing a panoramic view.
The act of interpretation happens in the macrocosm of history and the microcosm of my life. I constantly frame my life when people ask me questions. Two people brought this to my attention: As I chatted with M, he asked me, “What did you do fun this week?” I paused because I was prepared to answer about dreary job interviews and such, but not the parts of my week that filled me with delight. And, then we chatted about a movie and event I went to. He’d seen the movie. M’s question helped me assess how I think about my days and what I ask other people about. I find it’s easy to dwell in the miry pit of despair, but refreshing and rewarding to climb out of it.
Now, it is easy to frame my life in a list of failures and inadequacies. When people ask me what I do, I rarely say: read, write, run, laugh, sew, cook, encourage, play scrabulous. Instead I say I tutor and am looking for full-time employment. When asked about my relationship status, I say single instead of chatting chirpily about all my fabulous friends. However, I have one friend who looks at this segment of my life as if it were a field rife with possibility and space and time to dream and redirect. My natural response to all the rejection is despair, but she prods me to reframe the situation. The economy and government of God is grace and bounty not scarcity. Hope seems to be a flagrant denial of the visible evidence, but it is the framework of faith. I grip an identity so tightly my knuckles are white. I don’t know how to pray or plan in this phase of my life. Dr. Laura says the antidote to despair is purpose; so, I need purpose. Today, there’s a large part of me that thinks my problems would be solved if I were to land a job that I loved and would meet my financial responsibilities. The sane part of me acknowledges this crazy rationale and realizes it is unrealistic and simplistic. God must know that I need a job, money and dignity. I need to learn how to frame my life like the psalmists do. They acknowledge the rawness, brokeness and incompleteness of their life, but always end (sans 88 ) in the ultimate reality of God and his character.
Framing is a life-long process that I’m becoming aware of.
