Today

I had back-to-back meetings downtown today (WritingRevs, then Presbytery Uber-Committee) which allowed me to take the Metro, which I so vastly prefer to driving. It went without a hitch, except, in my unthinking haste to catch a train whose doors were closing, I stuck my arm and leg out to stop it and remembered too late, "Oh yeah, these doors don't work like the elevator." Ouch. Then my shoe came off and I almost lost it as the door began to close again, with me still standing on the platform.

At first, because I take myself too seriously sometimes, I felt very self-conscious about the whole thing because I basically looked like an idiot in front of a car full of people and several others waiting on the platform (and no doubt thinking What, you can't wait FIVE minutes for the next train, dumbass?) Then I imagined what it would be like to get on the next train, hop off at my stop, catch the shuttle bus to the Presbytery office, and walk into the Uber-Committee, wearing only one shoe, and it made me laugh out loud.

Yesterday

I walked the labyrinth last night at our church. When I first entered the labyrinth, my mantra was "The Lord is my light." This somehow morphed into "My yoke is easy and my burden is light." Which is interesting because those are two different meanings of light! As I let the words sink in, I was reflecting on the stress that is so epidemic in our culture. And realizing that often the stress comes from a very well-intentioned place. I think I often use stress as a way of communicating "I care." Something isn't going right in someone else's life? A ministry at the church hits a snag? I get anxious about it and let that be my answer: "See how conscientious and caring I am? I've internalized your problem and am all tense about it!" Does that make sense?

I was listening to a lecture this week by Barbara Brown Taylor that talked about "imposter virtues." Things that seem good on the surface but are really hollow and false virtues. Busy-ness is one. Makes us feel important, "busier-than-thou." I would say stress is the kindred cousin of busy-ness and is an imposter virtue too.

Anyway, it got me reflecting on how to communicate compassion and a caring presence with someone without using stress as some kind of messenger. One of my spiritual mothers, M, for whom the divine miss M is partially named, is someone I admire in this area. She is a conscientious, firstborn, caretaker, get things done type of person, and she experiences stress like anybody else does, but there is a deeper well of trust and joy there that is obvious.

I'm never going to be a beat-you-over-the-head evangelist. Besides not being my style, I just don't think it works. But my default stressed-out existence is a pretty darn poor witness. My experience last night renewed my interest in cultivating that "peace that passes understanding," for my own sake and for others.