ambiguity and faith

"Ambiguity tolerance describes how a person perceives, interprets and reacts to ambiguous situations. These are situations that are unclear either because of lack of information or because of incoherence in the available information. "

I remember my family doctor telling me that I apparently did not have quite enough ambiguity tolerance to serve me in good stead as a mother. Whenever one of my children was ailing in any way - fever, rash, intestinal distress, swelling or wounds - I would follow an identical course of action. I would question my husband incessantly about whether he thought the child was OK, whether a doctor's visit was in order, whether he thought I could wait till the morning, whether he thought things were looking better, worse or the same. Very often I would wake him in the middle of the night to request his expert opinion. Amazingly, he nearly always obliged and did so without using any bad language, though I nearly always suspected his motives if he thought things were improving. I thought he would say anything to shut me up. . . I don't know now why I even bothered to ask since the only answer I believed without question was, "Yes, I think she looks worse."

Then, waiting till daybreak, at least, I would call another mom who had children near the same age and rehash the whole condition with her, asking what she thought I should do; what she would do if her child looked/felt/acted like this. If it was a Thursday night or a Friday morning these conversations had an added urgency to them, since no one wanted to make the wrong call with the weekend looming; no one wants to end up in the emergency room with a sick child because they neglected to visit the doctor's office when they had the chance.

Finally, I would call our family doctor, request the first possible appointment, and wait anxiously for the time to pass. Then it would happen. Invariably, the child would take a turn for the better during that period of time. The fever would break, the swelling would go down, the rash would begin to fade, the vomiting would abate. So when we arrived at the appointment I had spent two days deciding upon, the child would be on the mend and I would be left saying, "She started to get better right after I made the appointment. It always happens that way." If I were not so relieved my child was on the mend I would probably have been annoyed with her for making me look like an idiot.

That is when our doctor, who was also a friend of mine, would smile and tell me I did not have quite enough tolerance for ambiguity. That if I had been able to wait just a bit longer things would have resolved themselves. She was not reproving me, just making an observation.

Things have not changed much since those days. A few weeks after we moved to Malayasia I was mentally preparing myself to send our 16 year old to boarding school in the US since she could not apparently find a suitable ballet school here; two days later she was established in a good studio not ten minutes drive from our house. The same week I "finally" hit the bookstore in desperation, spending many tens of ringitt so that I would "at least have something to read," and the next day our shipment of books arrived.

One night in December I nearly slept on the couch because I was SO unhappy with my long-suffering husband over the uncertainty of our eldest daughter's travel plans from the US to Malaysia. We had only twelve hours left to lock in her reservations, and I could not understand or tolerate my husband's equanimity in the face of a looming crisis. He assured me that he had made the proper phone calls and the travel agent would let him know when things were settled. I would have called the corporate agent and harassed her myself had I any standing to do that, but being only the spouse I could not do anything, and my husband was not inclined to breathe down her neck. (You would suppose I would think that was a good thing. . . )

When my husband arrived at the office the next morning (we are thirteen hours ahead of the US office) he found that Emily had purchased the tickets while he slept and I fumed, and everything was taken care of. Once again, I saw the "low tolerance" light flashing on the dashboard. After the fact, the crisis suddenly shrank to tolerable size and I was left thinking, "I wish I knew then what I know now."

I wrote the first part of this post a few weeks ago. Many things which appeared ambiguous at that time are now clear - but one ambiguity is only resolved to make room for another; some are never resolved. Has a day ever dawned in which nothing is "unclear because of lack of information or because of incoherence in the available information." In fact, I think this phrase fairly well describes life; certainly it describes the future, the outlook for the new year. We lack information about almost every aspect of the new year - where the next earthquake will strike, what plots and intrigues will succeed, which wars will end and what new wars will break out, which disesases will be declared cured and what virulent new strains will emerge.

There is only one individual to whom nothing is unclear because of lack of information, and He, for His own reasons, does not always choose to lift the fog in which we find ourselves groping. He does, however, offer the antidote of faith - the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. This is not an easy solution, nor usually a comfortable one, but it is often our only choice. We can lose sleep over the uncertainties of the present and the future, or we can learn to tolerate, and even embrace, each ambiguous, trying situation as an opportunity to exercise something far better than tolerance - faith.