Last week, I walked into the Apple store to pick up my repaired computer, and the friendly Genius Bar tech said, “We’ve never seen a Mac do this before—I mean I’ve shown it to everybody here, and nobody has seen a Mac do this before.” (I get that a lot from Tech Support. It’s a gift.)
The next morning, I was all excited to have my Story Shack computer back, and I got up early to do some writing before work. I set it up, plugged it in, then realized the keyboard wasn’t working. I turned it on. (Hey, I’ve picked up a few things along the way.) I waited for it to “sync up” or whatever it is that my keyboard and computer have to do in order to work together. It worked for a minute, and then it didn’t. I replaced the keyboard batteries. Away we go. But wait! Had to re-install word processing software—and then figure out why it wouldn’t let me edit my own document. And then . . .
After an hour of that, I thought to myself, “If I had a typewriter and a stack of paper, I could’ve been writing all this time.” (Aside: Remember how excited we were about those IBM typewriters with built-in backspace delete capability and rollerball typefaces you could swap out? I digress.)
I don’t really want to replace my computer with a typewriter. But I do think some of my “life is too complicated” whining is of my own making. If you’ve been kind enough to read previous posts, you’ve probably heard me quote Mrs. Fannie Hinds, my genius of a first-grade teacher, whose remedy for my six-year-old lunchroom etiquette crisis was, “Dahlin’, fingers were made before forks.”
Once, when I had completely (and unrealistically) overloaded myself, I called my mother and wailed, “I just can’t DO all of this!” And she said, “Of course you can’t, so just don’t.”
Sometimes the answer to our current frustration is “just stop.” Step back, have a look at the situation, and see if all our efforts toward a remedy aren’t, in fact, making matters worse. We have to accept our own limitations—not just accept them but respect them. We can’t do everything that’s asked of us, and if we try, we’ll end up exhausting ourselves to the point where we can’t do anything.
Thinking of the chorus to an old hymn this morning: Let go and let God have his wonderful way; let go and let God have his way . . .