Tag: lent

Bunnies, Eggs, Pastels, and Hope?

It’s going to be Easter in a few days; that celebrate not only of egg shaped candy and furry rabbits, but the new life and resurrection.

I confess I’m feeling in dire need of all the symbols of Easter this year to lift my spirits: the candy, the bright pastels, the soft plush toys. And the slim spiritual hope of regeneration.

For many Christians, the season of Lent, the forty days leading up to Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection, are akin to fasting during the Muslim month of Ramadan. Except that for Protestants, we don’t stop eating everything, only those things very near and dear to us. Or in the “spirit of the law” practice which infuses much of the modern church, we chose something of value other than food that we want to give up for a period as a sacrifice.

It’s supposed to be hard, as all discipline is, to surrender and think of the sufferings of Christ or of the poor, or others, during this season. I’ve used it (rightly or wrongly) to give up a character trait I wanted to work on. Because it’s Lent, there’s no more procrastinating once I’ve made a vow before God to stop.

For many it’s abstaining from chocolate or television watching or secular (as in non-religious) music. For me in the past it’s been giving up rage and a spate of food related loves like Coke Classic, among others.

This year I honed on the one thing that was my life line as a new mother and over-committed modern woman: the afternoon nap. It’s not unknown for me to make up sleep missed overnight with a two hour stint before evening activities.

When I decided to give it up for Lent, I don’t think I knew how hard it would be or how much I relied on sleep to reset whatever negative things had happened during the day. Waking up from the nap was like resetting my entire brain; defragging the hard drive and rebooting if you will.

For the past six weeks, a couple of new trends have replaced the medicated power of sleep. One is that I am more productive. It’s slightly shocking how much you can get done in two hours. Exercise and shower, writing (like this blog), catching up with friends, spending time with baby; there is no shortage of filler for this “empty” time.

The second thing is not as easy to talk about. It’s the utter, earthshaking presence of boiling, black, fury at rudeness. Perhaps without my system reset, the anger is just there on the surface, constantly getting piled on. Whatever the reason, I can’t shake the annoying things of the day.

Like the insistently rude student, who I can’t tell if she’s speaking to me this way because of my age or my race – because in a society where people are very class and manner conscious, I know she wouldn’t dare speak this way to certain other people in the same situation.

Or the dull, glazed look in people’s eyes when you ask them where something is. Who knew “I don’t know” could be a corrosive, all purpose, excuse for checking out of life?

The women having tea in their office when you come to do something good for their school, who can’t be interrupted to show you where you’re supposed to go.

I rain down cruses on all of them including the incompetent, the inconsiderate, the indifferent.

It’s hard work being so agitated all the time. And I realize the person I’m hurting the most: myself. Being negative is not who I am in my core. Somehow all the grace that I’ve been given in life – and even recently there have been many, including a fender bender where the man agreed not to pursue damages – don’t seem to be sticking to the ribs. Rather it’s the bruises.

I hope for Easter that I can replace these flashes of pain, the sense that I’m so weary of the world and its harshness, the impulse to strike back with a sense of joy, hope, and purpose at the new life that we’re promised.

Lord knows I’m tired of this old one.

 

When you give up the right to be angry

It happened again: out in public, another angry foreigner speaks to a room at large of his disbelief at the lack of efficiency that surrounds him. I’m using ‘he’ because it was a he; a large man, over six feet tall, lumbering into the Qatar Airways office, escaping the rising afternoon heat. I was idly playing with my mobile, draped in a chair; waiting for the agent working with me to come back and help me untangle the Gordian knot my noncommittal students had made of the group travel plans to a conference (see Lack of commitment continues, March 4th entry).

 

The belligerent European came in, looked around, took off his sunglasses and said, to no one in particular:

“Is anyone working today or what?”

 

Now, the thing is, I’ve had this same feeling, dozens of times, and in more countries than just the one I’m currently living in. China, Peru, India, even your local U.S. Social Security office, can evoke feelings of despair at Byzantine bureaucratic inefficiency.

 

The thing that piqued my interest was that this man had just arrived. He wasn’t even sitting down. He hadn’t even taken a number from the electronic dispenser as the one other waiting customer had.

 

Essentially, he didn’t have the right to be angry. At least not from where I sat, having waited at least one hour before on a similar visit for similar services.

A sales agent came from the back and the man persisted.

 

“There are only two people working right now?”

“I just came on duty sir,” the petite Pilipino woman said, “I’m turning o my machine.”

 

Now, there are lots of things about class, power, and gender politics I could say here. I could tell you that this same scenario gets played out all over this city but instead of European, there are Americans, Qataris, Brits, Aussies, Kiwis, and the receipient is almost always either Pilipino or South Asian. Even in the instances when it’s two men, the service provider is always subservient in the presence of more power, wealth, or a higher ethnicity than his own. It’s a stunning example of how race and class conmingle in a heavy handed way.

But instead, I’ll say I thanked my agent several times for her wonderful assistance, thanked the cashier when he gave me my change, and walked out of the office leaving the steaming over weight Euro behind.

 

 I am really learning the hang of this non-anger thing.

It happened this week

I was tested earlier this week on my Lental commitment. I was white hot with rage at an injustice I thought was being inflicted on my husband and I. But I took a split second (literally because I really was angry) to remind myself to breathe, to think about why I was angry, to remember I was working on this very surge.

A miraculous thing happened. 

The sting went out of the insult.

Instead of fleeing from the room in high dungeon, I stood, crossed my arms, and breathed.

I thought about why I was upset: being angry on behalf of someone else isn’t really productive.

Being afraid you’re being taken advantage of is a way of diminishing what you have to give to the world.

Focusing on the petty and not letting it go can corrode your soul.

 In those few moments of breathing and calmness, I decided to forget it; not to hate anyone; and just keep breathing.

(Oh, and I will be taking steps not be in this particular predicament again).

There we have it: week two and I’ve overcome one challenge. Hopefully the next one won’t blindside me.