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a lesson from ebenezer scrooge

/ Mary Chase / Leave a comment

Last Tuesday, Christopher and I ventured to one of our favorite places in Atlanta: The New American Shakespeare Tavern. This theatre is a gem. It’s tucked away on Peachtree Street across from Emory Midtown, and the front of the building looks like the Globe Theatre. You get to sit at a cozy table, enjoy a meal, and watch a company of some of the most talented performers in America perform the works of William Shakespeare. Except for last Tuesday. Last Tuesday, we saw a performance of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. And it was arguably one of the best things I’ve ever seen on stage. Ever.

I can’t thank my mother enough for introducing me to “A Muppet Christmas Carol” at an early age. I’ve enjoyed that movie above all others during the holiday season. The Muppets did everything right by Dickens: most of the dialogue in the movie is verbatim to the novel.

So naturally, as I do, I was quoting nearly every word of the stage production in my head. But for some reason, seeing A Christmas Carol last Tuesday felt like I was hearing the story of Scrooge for the first time. One particular scene really hit me hard and left me teary-eyed: the encounter between the ghost of Jacob Marley and Scrooge before he is haunted by the three spirits. This is the passage from the novel.

“You are fettered,” said Scrooge, trembling. “Tell me why?”

“I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?”

Scrooge trembled more and more.

“Or would you know,” pursued the Ghost, “the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!”

Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he could see nothing.

“Jacob,” he said, imploringly. “Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob!”

“I have none to give,” the Ghost replied. “It comes from other regions, Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house—mark me!—in life my spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; and weary journeys lie before me!”

It was a habit with Scrooge, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or getting off his knees.

“You must have been very slow about it, Jacob,” Scrooge observed, in a business-like manner, though with humility and deference.

“Slow!” the Ghost repeated.

“Seven years dead,” mused Scrooge. “And travelling all the time!”

“The whole time,” said the Ghost. “No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse.”

“You travel fast?” said Scrooge.

“On the wings of the wind,” replied the Ghost.

“You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,” said Scrooge.

The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.

“Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed,” cried the phantom, “not to know, that ages of incessant labour by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!”

“But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.

“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”

Dickens wrote this novel 171 years ago. I wonder if he had the foresight to know how applicable his lessons from Marley and Scrooge would be in 2014.

What chains are we forging in life?

Are we turning a blind eye to those around us in need? “My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house…”

Are we using politics and ignorance to justify a lack of compassion for humanity? “But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.” You could insert a number of words to fit the meaning of this sentence. An example: “But I don’t think my tax dollars should be spent to provide healthcare for other people, even if they can’t afford it. That’s their problem for not working hard, not mine.” This way of thinking fits right in with Scrooge’s suggestion to send the poor and homeless to the prisons and poor houses.

As deeply-flawed humans (myself included) do, we make the holidays about ourselves. Are we forgetting that Christmas, the day we celebrate the birth of Jesus (who, by the way, celebrated Hanukkah), is the beginning of the redemption of humanity? Dare I say it — are we forgetting the true meaning of Christmas?

This Christmas, may we not lose sight of the birth of Jesus: the Son of God, sent to die for us.

This holiday season, may we not lose sight of treating everyone with kindness and compassion. Even if their reasons for celebrating the holidays are different than your own.

May we not lose sight of humanity: the poor, the sick, the hurting, the lonely. Remember the ones who are less fortunate than you — and love and serve them all throughout the year.

May we not lose sight of the things that truly matter, and may we forget about the things that do not.

And may we remember the lessons from Ebenezer Scrooge and the three spirits of Christmas. I enjoy the final chapter of A Christmas Carol perhaps more than the ending of any novel I’ve read. Scrooge is a changed man. This, too, is a story of redemption.

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays, and God Bless Us, Everyone.

boss lady [part one]

/ Mary Chase / 1 Comment

Some leaders are born women. – Geraldine Ferraro

 

My first encounter with leadership was in the fifth grade.  On a steamy afternoon in mid-September, I paced around the side of my friend’s pool clutching her lime green land line phone with sweaty, trembling hands. My friends splashed around with “Who Let the Dogs Out?” by the Baha Men blaring in the background. For the twelfth time, I dialed the Homework Hotline.

This time, I heard an updated message from one of my favorite teachers I’ve ever had–Ms. Cathy.

“….and I’m excited to announce our class president is Mary Chase Breedlove.”

I was ecstatic.

During my time in office, I accomplished two very important acts of legislation:

1. Our class held a canned food drive for the local food pantry around Thanksgiving.

2. I drafted a permission slip for our guardians to sign so we could watch “Remember the Titans.”  (It’s rated PG).

From that year on, I actively sought leadership. I was class president through high school, and even served as the student body president. I was told over and over that I’m a natural leader. People told me I was blessed with the ability to lead – and I hope I never take that responsibility for granted.

Why do I want to be a leader? Is it about control? Power? Security?

Am I just bossy?

While society may agree with the latter (more on that later), I want to lead simply because I want to help others. I want to figure out how to make things work. I want to make life easier. I want to empower others by leading them with compassion and respect.

In 2012, I experienced my most challenging leadership role yet. From March until August, I served as the Camp Director for CentriKid Camps team 7. I was blessed with a remarkable team and an even more remarkable assistant director – who was also a female.

Women don’t always get the best rep as far as leadership in ministry goes. I had two summers of leadership positions with CentriKid camps, and in my experience, I felt like the organization supported, equipped, and encouraged women to lead.

Ellie (the assistant director) and I faced a myriad of challenges that summer. One of the lesser ones — albeit still a challenge — was gaining respect and authority as women leaders.

Our team was wonderful, but not perfect. I felt loved and respected by them, but I was more often than not viewed as the “mother.” Nurturing, caring, compassionate. I was the mother figure — I even had a nickname (Mother Mary).

I was deeply flattered by this – but at the same time, I was the mom. Not the Director. Not the boss.

A few of my staffers didn’t hesitate to speak up in situations where, if I had been a male, they wouldn’t have interrupted me. Sometimes they’d ask me to do things like throw away the trash they were holding – which I did, because I wanted to be a servant leader – but the sexism still stung.

As director, I was the final say. The big cheese. I was responsible for all camp operations – everything fell on my shoulders. I responsible for managing a team of staffers as well as leading the adult group leaders who came to camp.

Would you ask your boss or manager to throw away your trash for you? Especially if you’re the same distance away from a trash can?

I feel like they asked things like that of me because I was a woman. I doubt seriously that male directors had other team members asking them to throw trash away.

I came across some church group leaders who would question my every move. One even yelled at me for having to cancel a week of camp due to a massive storm blowing in and destroying power for thousands of people in the area. We had no power and there was a 105 degree heat index.

I’m also not the first female director to experience sexism and disrespect from staffers. In fact, my instance isn’t half as offensive as other female directors I encountered.

So here we are. 2014. United States of America. Home of the brave. You can video chat with someone halfway across the world driving 70 miles an hour down the interstate on your phone.

Yet women are still discriminated against in the work place and don’t earn the same amount as men in many circumstances.

Why is there still gender inequality? Why is there still male-female income disparity?

Is anyone else out there still flummoxed by this nonsense?

 

words matter

/ Mary Chase / 2 Comments

I’ve only had a handful of nightmares in my 23 years so far. I’m not a wild dreamer in the literal meaning – in fact, I rarely dream at night. If I do have a dream, it’s usually ridiculous.

Example: I had several strange dreams before my wedding. They were all the same. I went to pick up my wedding dress, but the seamstress dyed it red and turned it into a pantsuit.

Anyway.

Of the bad dreams I’ve had, there’s one I remember vividly.  I was back in high school with old friends – people who had a huge impact on my life while I was growing up – and we were hiking through the woods behind the football field of my old high school. Laughing, talking, reminiscing.

After a while, I realized we were hiking a mountain. I didn’t notice how high we were until we finally came to a clearing. When we reached the top, the wind was blowing so hard none of us could stand. We could only crawl. My hands were slippery.

I then realized the surface of the mountain was white and smooth. The mountain was also hollow: there was a huge hole in the center that was a dark drop thousands of feet down. My hands still kept slipping.

I soon realized the mountain was a tooth.

If I stood up, I would either slide down the cavity to my imminent death, or fall off the side of the mountain. I watched my friends fall away one by one.

Out of nowhere, a helicopter came and the faceless pilot threw a rope ladder down to me. My only way to survive was to jump off the side of the mountain and grab the ropes.

I pulled up as fast as I could and threw myself off the mountain with my arms reaching above my head, searching for the ropes, trying to beat the wind.

I woke up before I knew if I made it or not. I was panicking. Sweating, crying, shaking. I was flooded with emotions: fear, anguish, dread, even adrenaline. It took several hours for my heart rate to come down.

(Fun fact: I despise teeth-related things.)

Why would I share this creepy dream with you? Because I think it has tremendous meaning. I am certainly not one to live by dream interpretation. But I do think there’s validity in what our nightmares can teach us.

I once heard that the presence of teeth in dreams was a symbol for words. Have you ever dreamed about your teeth falling out? Perhaps they can be symbolic of the words you say, meant to say, or wish you hadn’t said.

In my case, I dreamed about teeth as a mountain. An obstacle.

Words can be obstacles.

I don’t know about you, but I often struggle with finding the right words to say–especially in a lose-lose situation. (Either fall inside the cavity or fall off the mountain). In my dream, the only way to live was a tremendous leap of faith toward the ladder.

Why did I have an anxiety dream about words?

Because words matter to me.

Words can make my spirit soar and cut me to the bone.

Examples:

The awesome gentleman who styles my hair told me once that I have a Downton Abbey face. He said I have timeless beauty. That will forever go down as one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me — and I don’t think he was intending to make my day, but he definitely did.

When I was in high school, I was at a store with a guy I liked for a long time. We were exchanging a shirt he purchased earlier. The cashier gave him his change back — some bills and small change. He said, “The change is for your girl — but she’s worth more than that.”

The guy I liked replied, “Nah, she’s not worth much more.” The cashier smiled at me apologetically.

(I knew how to pick them in 11th grade, didn’t I?)

Now, don’t get me wrong, I know there’s a margin of error for word interpretation. I don’t consider myself a highly sensitive person. I don’t go around looking for ways to be offended by “hey, can you pass the ketchup.”

But I do fear that in this age of social media, our words become more and more empty. It’s so easy to berate and bully others behind the screen of a smart phone.

How are you using your words?

Do you find yourself defending things you say?

This was posted on one of my favorite websites – Humans of New York – and I think this gentleman sums up my thoughts perfectly:

“I’m learning to be more careful with my words. Words that seem meaningless at the time can end up having a lot of power. Seeds that you didn’t even intend to plant can fall off you and start growing in people.”

oops

/ Mary Chase / 2 Comments

Well, here it is a week after Fat Tuesday. Not one blog post.

That doesn’t mean I’m not writing. I have at least two very intense drafts, but I find myself being more guarded with my words here. I’m taking my time. I want to say things right.

I suppose that’s the juxtaposition of social media: say whatever you think whenever you want.

I put a lot of thought into all my posts – including social media – and I want to encourage everyone to do the same. More on that later.

I want to know something: tell me your top six favorite animated Disney movies. (But MC, isn’t it usually a “top five” kind of thing? Yes, but my blog, my rules. I have six.)

Here’s mine in no particular order:

The Princess and the Frog
Frozen
Beauty and the Beast
Mulan
Aladdin
The Lion King

author out.