Abandonment

Having driven across Kansas a few times lately, I am reminded of how many derelict buildings dot the landscape. Their ragged neglect evidenced by roofs caving in, windows with gaping smiles and blooming weeds, the protégé of tumbleweed. The truth is, upon detecting these dilapidated places, I feel sad. I feel the same way about them as I do about ruins in Ireland. They can sometimes have an odd splendor to them, but often they are just forlorn- forlorn and solemn. They are abandoned. Someone gave up on them. Thinking they would perhaps invest their time and money in a more trendy place, or at least in a place that wouldn’t need the roof patched. Or maybe the owner had to move off to an exotic place like the Bahamas for health reasons, or maybe they are now deceased, and left the property to their only son in Toledo who is a busy Doctor and doesn’t have time to care for it. Or maybe the previous owner was dirt poor, and it now belongs to a bank that is having a hard time selling the property for equity.
Really, abandonment is weird. It is usually a word that has unpleasant connotation attached to it and leaves us wondering “What went wrong?” But the word suddenly turns out to be a good thing if something is abandoned that needs to be. Who likes rain dripping on their heads while they are trying to drink a cup of tea? That old house ain’t worth your time! Why hold onto a shack if you can live in a palace, or a house with a garage and swimming pool? Why hold onto things like guilt, fear or bitterness? It’s much better to throw those little guys out the window.
Another weird thing about abandonment is that it seems to graduate to a higher level when it is done with good intent. When I was in Greece this last summer I talked to a guy who was part of a Bible study called The Barbarians. I asked him why they were called Barbarians to see if it fit the image in my head of maniacal bonfire dancing, and men with braided beards ripping off chunks of meat from mammoth-sized turkey drumsticks. The guy said they were called Barbarians because they wanted to be “passionate, fully abandoned to God.” That answer didn’t really fit into my Barbarian paradigm, but I’ll give him the benefit of doubt… because it does sound rather glorious! If there was a girl version of the Barbarians I’d join. It kind of fits into my Live Hard goal, after all. Resurrect that hidden savage. So… viva la abandonment! The good kind, I mean.