Yesterday I burst into tears because I broke a glass. I was washing dishes, and when I set one down on the towel to dry, it made another fall against the glass. I had a good cry, feeling on the one hand that this was the last straw, and that I loved those glasses, and that God and the universe were so obviously out to get me, and on the other hand laughing at myself for this irrationally strong reaction.
Ever notice how when one big thing is going wrong, you start perceiving everything else negatively, too? Once the big thing started frustrating me, I started getting excessively irritated by the fact that I constantly have a runny nose, that the house was cold, that at lunchtime I couldn’t get one plastic container out of another one-handed… etc., and then the glass.
The big thing yesterday was tuning. In January I thought if I set myself a goal of being able to tune in an hour by June, I would approach each tuning session determined to move through the process as quickly as possible, and eventually this would have to shorten my sessions. Yesterday I had just this attitude as I got ready to tune. I even thought I would tune all at once, instead of taking the break I usually take in the middle. By the time I got to the G’s I knew this was going to be a longer-than-usual session, and that I needed that break. (Total tuning time ended up being about three hours.)
It is just SO FRUSTRATING when I can’t get the tuning wrench to move the way I want it to, or when the strings behave in ways that don’t make sense and that I can’t figure out how to deal with. And I could accept it all if I weren’t the only dulcimer player in the entire universe that takes so long to tune. It just doesn’t make sense. If most of the trouble I have seems to be tuning wrench and string issues, then it can’t possibly be my perfectionism or stubbornness that’s the problem. But everyone else uses the same kind of wrench, and only poorly-made dulcimers present insurmountable string problems. My dulcimer is NOT poorly made. What other conclusion can there be but that God is out to get me?
And so I laugh at myself again. Other people are being killed, or they have cancer, or they’re starving. Some of them are able to continue trusting in the goodness of God, because they understand that there is more to Life than this life. And what gets to me? I have a runny nose, though otherwise in good health. My house is cold, but I’ve got a house. I can’t tune my dulcimer normally or quickly, but I’ve got a dulcimer. I broke a glass, but I’ve got some others. –God sent his only son to pay the penalty for my sins, and offers me this gift even when I am still in rebellion, but because I have a runny nose and a cold house and a broken glass and tuning problems, he’s out to get me. Yeah. LOL.
He might really be out to get me, for my own good. Sometimes sanctification hurts. And when there’s no apparent earthly explanation for my “troubles,” it makes sense to look for a spiritual explanation.
Final comment: I’m not trying to say that those of us who aren’t being killed or don’t have cancer or aren’t starving should just “buck up and deal,” just stop feeling sad or angry or afraid because other people’s troubles are worse. Remembering the range of troubles possible in this life doesn’t change or stop my emotions, it just puts my situation in perspective. It doesn’t mean I have to stop crying or stomping around the house, it just lets me laugh gently and compassionately at myself while I do so.
“Cast all your cares on him, for he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7).
PS — That gentle and compassionate laughter is one of the reasons I LOVE Anne Lamott’s books. They’re not PG-13, but if you can handle some language and some frank sexuality, check out both her novels and nonfiction.
