There are days when things go so well that I kind of look
around and say, “Okay, what’s going to
happen now?” I don’t know, maybe everybody has days like that, but I know my
really great days don’t happen all that often and more and more of my days seem
to be the kind that has at least one disaster, sometimes very small, sometimes
very large, for me to get beyond. I had several this week, and it’s enough to
make me a little bit itchy.
I had one day where if I could drop something, lose
something, break, tear, or forget to do something necessary, it happened. It
may not be a huge thing to lose a bit for my electric screwdriver, that is
unless I want to use that particular bit to tighten up screws on a piece of
furniture that I sit on somewhat regularly. It’s a little more aggravating to
try and lift a bag of used cat litter from the back of my truck and stuff it
into a neck-high dumpster while holding up the lid with my other hand, only to
have the kitty litter bag break halfway between the two. That was enough by
itself to make me wonder what else could happen, and create a little bit of
worry about what that could be.
Jesus definitely spoke about worry in the passage from
Matthew for today. He compared people worrying about receiving daily
necessities and more to the birds of the air and flowers of the fields, which
have an entirely different perspective. It’s enough to take care of this
minute, rather than trying to anticipate what’s going to happen after this.
It’s a way of saying take today as it is and go with it. Don’t worry about
tomorrow before the next sunrise.
I wonder if flowers worry when they start to droop for lack
of water. Probably not, since we don’t consider them sentient beings any more
than we believe rocks to have self-knowledge and be capable of feeling pain
and. As for trees, we may have some feeling of them having a kind of
self-knowledge that we can’t understand but do they worry, do they scream in
pain when an ax or chainsaw cuts into their bark and limbs? I hope not, but you
know, I’m not sure, and I’m not certain that that is something I should worry
about, as much as I love trees. The same goes for the ocean or any body of
water, sacred spaces, or maybe a house in which I have happy memories.
Just reading the news even very briefly is enough to give a
body cause for worry, at least in my case, it does. I can only take so much
news unless it’s about the royal family, a hero, either human or animal or some
other kind of uplifting story — those things I can handle. I can’t worry about
whether we’re going to get bombed by somebody, or we’re going to attack
somebody, not to mention tear families
apart with no plan as to how to reunite them. I feel helpless because it seems
there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.
I can vote and encourage others to do the same, but ultimately I have
only one vote that can be counted, so I guess I would just have to leave that
part of life to God and go on with the rest of my existence.
Jesus said in Matthew, “So do not worry about tomorrow, for
tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today
(6:34) .” I wish I could say it’s an easy thing to do, but when the checking
account doesn't cover next week’s groceries, or the heating element in the oven
burns up, or some other situation arises where I have little or no control,
it’s hard not to worry. If I stay in that moment, I will still end up worrying
about what’s going to happen tomorrow? Well, what can I do about it now? What
possible thing could I do to change tomorrow when I don’t know what’s coming?
The 12-step programs have a common prayer, part of which
members recite at every group meeting that covers pretty much what Jesus was
telling us to do in that verse in Matthew:
God, grant me the serenity to
accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. –
Reinhold Niebuhr
That prayer has been my mantra for many years. It’s the one
I say just before I go to sleep, and it comes to mind in times of stress,
because of having repeated it so often, I have learned to let it take my
worries and rid me of them at least for the moment. If I can’t change
something, it reminds me that the serenity and calmness are what I need rather
than struggling against inevitability. I’ve learned patience from that prayer.
I’ve learned not just to accept things I can’t change but also the guidance to
find a way to change what I can, namely myself. The third thing is the wisdom
to know the difference, to stop trying to climb mountains that are only small
hills or purposefully listening to a friend rather than trying to solve their difficulties
through my suggestions of how it should be done.
Today I will work to not worry about things that Jesus and
Reinhold Niebuhr warned me about. I will
also use the verse from Matthew and the serenity prayer together to stop being
fearful of the future and concentrate on living in the present. It sounds like
a pretty good plan to me, and it does work. I know that from experience.
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