Wow. That Really Changes Things.

Today was rough. I’m not sure if it was me returning to “real” life after being away at a conference, if it was student behavior, or if it was a combination of both, but I was more than ready to call the day quits by the end of my last class. In fact, I turned and walked toward the board during that class and said to myself, “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Do not let frustration invade your being. Do not angrily raise your voice. You can do this. The day is almost over. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.” I breathed myself to the end of the day.

…

When I learned the concept of being a “non-anxious presence” during my courses at divinity school, I immediately made it my goal to become a non-anxious presence. When I declared this goal to one of my professors, he laughed at me. What he knew that I didn’t know was that it is next to impossible to be a non-anxious presence. We can take steps toward being non-anxious. We can have moments of non-anxiety. We can live with a less-anxious presence. But it is very rare for a person truly to live as a non-anxious presence. My goal was indeed laughable. Yet it is still my goal. As my latest fortune cookie read: “It is far worse to live without goals than to live in fear of not accomplishing them.”

...

So…today I worked very hard to be non-anxious. I activated all non-anxious strategies—breath, prayer, body awareness, silence, sharing, firm voice rather than yelling voice, breath, and prayer—and, well, I didn’t fully fail. I didn’t fully succeed either. But I didn’t fully fail. And I suppose that’s a good thing, eh? 

…

In counseling on Tuesday night, I talked with Joe The Counselor about some of the situations that test my limits of non-anxiety—or I suppose I need to say less-anxiety if I want to be more accurate. For as many hours as I have been in counseling; for as many years as I have worked through the issues that are my monsters; for as many words as I have written about self-worth and value, grace and redemption, hope and resurrection, limitless love for all of God’s creation; there are still memories and realities that hook me—there are still words and accusations that hit me with such force that they knock me into the fetal position where all I know to do is cry.

As I shared these thoughts with Joe, desperately hoping that he could help me identify the root of one such reality that invokes so much anger and frustration in me that I truly do not like the person whom I hear and feel reacting, Joe patiently listened. Then he said something that I will not soon forget:

“Bear with me here,” he said. “You might not be ready to hear this. But what if the next time this reality arises, you say, ‘Thank you, (reality), for being my teacher,’ and letting the situation teach you whatever it is that you need to learn rather than letting it frustrate you to the point that you cannot think straight?”

I didn’t know what to say.

Until I finally said, “Wow. That really changes things.”

Think:
Thank you, student who is driving me crazy, for being my teacher.
Thank you, visceral memory that is punching me in the gut, for being my teacher.
Thank you, person who dislikes me and speaks ill of me, for being my teacher.
Thank you, stranger who cuts me off in traffic because you didn’t follow traffic signs, for being my teacher.

…

In my inevitably failed mission of living as a non-anxious presence, I now have one more tool to employ when my monsters attack: Thankfulness.

In every situation, friends, good and bad, there is something to be learned.
And for that, friends, there is reason to be thankful.

Thank you, God, for being our teacher.
In all things.
Even when our feeble, human attempts at love are laughable.

Amen.