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Sweating the Small Stuff

My dear friend Becky posted a blog that has me thinking this morning. (You can read her blog and my comments here.) I’m thinking back to the recent bomb threat and full evacuation at my school. I had no problem jumping in, corralling students, rising above the pain in my feet from walking miles in heels, and still being able to laugh in the midst of that chaos. When three hurricanes cut across my state just a few miles from where I live, I methodically dealt with FEMA and our insurance company, dragged tree limbs away from my yard, and stoically lived through 10 days in August with no electricity at my house. I’ve battled with the state mental health system to get treatment for my bipolar mother while simultaneously working through my first year of marriage, finishing my bachelor’s degree, and working full-time. Oh, I know how to deal with the crap life slings at me sometimes.

Yet, something like misreading a sign and discovering at the checkout register that I just purchased candy for $8.99 a pound (instead of $1.99 a pound), or walking in to a kitchen counter scattered with the day’s mail, or discovering a glass put away in the wrong cabinet can send me into a tailspin. I don’t quite understand this disparity.

I’m sure I’m not alone. There’s a reason we’re told “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” It’s the small stuff that can crawl under your skin and drive you into madness. So why do we let it get to us? I do believe that God is ultimately in control, and I welcome his peaceful presence in the major, ugly stretches of chaos. Those moments are when I discover truths for living. I can process the path and find meaning.

The small stuff, though, is stuff that just shouldn’t be. I should pay more attention to the signs in the store. I should be able to walk into my house after work and see a clutter-free kitchen counter. I should expect the people in my house to know where to put away the dishes. The problem, I’m beginning to see, is more in my expectations. I expect catastrophes in life. Jesus told me they’d be there. No one told me about the razor nicks and clogged toilets and knocked over plants. Just because I expect something doesn’t mean it’s going to be that way. My world is filled with more than myself, and that, I suppose, means it’s never going to be just the way I want it.

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.

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