I think about writing here, but I know it will end up, like, a to-do list with bullet points or something, and really? You had to go and get yourself a blog to make your to-do list? C'mon now.
So I've promised myself no bullet points.
I had a bad day. One of the boys is being rough, and I'm trying everything I can to teach him to be gentle, and he's gentle most of the time, but you never know when the rough will pop out and bam someone in the head with the wooden spoon he's supposed to be using on the djembe. Or throw a handful of sand in someone's eye. It's normal 2 year old stuff and it, too, will pass. But oh, it's a terrible feeling to know that someone might be getting popped -or worse!- any minute of the day and despite your constant vigilance, you might not be able to prevent it. Today I failed to prevent it. Twice. Bad day.
Then in yoga, near the end of class, a class I spent in tense negotiation with the frustration I carried in with me, I heard a voice. It very distinctly said: Change your reaction.
And I knew it didn't mean change the reaction I offered the child. It meant change how I feel about it. Which sucks because I felt rather entitled to my frustration.
Not that it's doing me any good.
So I'm working on that.
And it would be the simplest thing in the world to say: Hey God, will you help me be better at this, please? Thank you!
But it's like I don't even think to do that unless or until I feel I've done absolutely everything I can do to improve the situation myself, and what's more I feel as if I shouldn't ask God for any help unless or until I've done absolutely everything I can do to improve the situation myself.
I think that's a fundamental misunderstanding I have about God.
So I've promised myself no bullet points.
I had a bad day. One of the boys is being rough, and I'm trying everything I can to teach him to be gentle, and he's gentle most of the time, but you never know when the rough will pop out and bam someone in the head with the wooden spoon he's supposed to be using on the djembe. Or throw a handful of sand in someone's eye. It's normal 2 year old stuff and it, too, will pass. But oh, it's a terrible feeling to know that someone might be getting popped -or worse!- any minute of the day and despite your constant vigilance, you might not be able to prevent it. Today I failed to prevent it. Twice. Bad day.
Then in yoga, near the end of class, a class I spent in tense negotiation with the frustration I carried in with me, I heard a voice. It very distinctly said: Change your reaction.
And I knew it didn't mean change the reaction I offered the child. It meant change how I feel about it. Which sucks because I felt rather entitled to my frustration.
Not that it's doing me any good.
So I'm working on that.
And it would be the simplest thing in the world to say: Hey God, will you help me be better at this, please? Thank you!
But it's like I don't even think to do that unless or until I feel I've done absolutely everything I can do to improve the situation myself, and what's more I feel as if I shouldn't ask God for any help unless or until I've done absolutely everything I can do to improve the situation myself.
I think that's a fundamental misunderstanding I have about God.
But that's petition prayer, right, and aren't you not supposed to resort to that unless you're working on it yourself? It's not like God is discouraging you from being self-reliant. If there's a God who hears your prayers, I just kinda think he's sideways-smiling at you, saying go on, Kate, keep it up. You're doing great.
ReplyDeleteI had to wrack my brain to remember if I ever learned the types of prayer in Catholic school. If I did, I never could recall them, so I looked them up. It was kind of a nice meditation I carried around with me for days though, thinking: petition prayer, petition prayer. And I like the image of God sideways-smiling. Thank you for that! I think he might be saying: let it go, though. Or: you're not the end-all, be-all y'know? That's MY job!
DeleteOh sweet girl, I do this all the time! I constantly have to remind myself that I am just as worthy and in need of prayer as everyone else. There's this old Sandra Bullock movie--stick with me--called "28 Days" where she goes into rehab for drug and alcohol addiction. When she's there, they make her wear a sign that says "Confront me if I don't ask for help." I am that girl! and it sounds like you may be, too. We work so hard to manage everything on our own that we seldom realize we're just hurting ourselves.
ReplyDeleteSo, the next time you're overwhelmed, find your quiet breath. Find your center. And then just say, "Hey, I'm here and need a little help, whatever you got, I'd appreciate it." The universe, and God, will hear you, and you will feel lighter for acknowledging you are in need and not alone.
Thank you Shannon. I don't know if it's feeling unworthy, or if it's my tendency toward imagining my own will at the center of everything. If I have a spiritual tendency to overcome, it's probably that I overestimate the power of my own will. I'm struggling with that a lot lately, especially when I'm also thinking about entering the marketplace, where it seems faith in one's own will is highly celebrated. The balance is tough! I love your prayer, BTW. Very simple, and it does help so much.
DeleteYou know, I've thought about this post a lot since you posted it and I won't offer any insights about God or prayer (because I'm in way over my head on that front), but what you wrote about not necessarily being entitled to your frustration was really eye opening for me. I think, now, I'm just trying to follow your example.
ReplyDeleteI do tend to feel entitled to my frustration, probably because I am not easily or often frustrated. So when I am, I feel SO entitled to it! But then I have to ask: who does it serve? Usually the answer is no one. It's not helping me. It's certainly not helping whoever I'm frustrated with. So ... what's the point in carrying it around? In feeding it? But it's not always easy to set it down either.
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