Letting go of the Trump in all of us
My need to let go is endless.
Last Friday after a 12 hour work day I go to a meeting I haven’t been to in a while. I’m driving too fast, seeing a speed camera click behind me, changing lanes without signalling. None of this was necessary. All of it was revealing my poor spiritual condition.
What I am doing is more important,
I can hear myself think. My teeth grind; my hands clench the wheel.
Of course I could have left earlier and allowed myself more time. But every second is too valuable. I am too important to the people I’m with.
It began earlier that day when I so ironically posted on the fruitlessness of being selfish—a post I thought so masterfully crafted it should go viral.
All that went viral was my grandiosity.
I arrive at the meeting at 8:30 sharp. The basket was being passed for ‘half-time.’ The meeting had moved 30 minutes earlier without my knowing. I stew the remaining 30 minutes, not hearing what people have to share; instead all I see is people who could have warned me the meeting was moved.
Sunday, after a long day of daddy duties and errands, I drive to catch a meeting; I hope to compensate for the one I missed Friday. As fate would have it, I’m idling in an empty church parking lot. Another meeting has moved without my knowing. Only this time there’s no one there to blame…except me.
So what do I do?
I think I can best articulate my two options in two opposing scenes. One ends in misery, the other joy.
I heard an NPR story about Donald Trump yesterday morning. The founders of the satirical magazine Spy pegged trump as a “short-fingered vulgarian” in the 80s. The epithet stuck, mainly because Trump obsessed over it. It still haunts him. The comment about his hands actually prompted a recent allusion to his privates which he had to assure the American voting public were “no problem” during a presidential debate!
This articulates my misery. Three decades later, I am obsessing over myself to the extent that I need to air an embarrassing and paranoia-filled grievance in front of a live national audience.
When I obsess over vanity today, I get sick of myself, quickly.
Our town hall held a family dance party ten days ago.
“Let it Go” spins the DeeJay. Children frozen no more.
The glitter, the twirling. “The cold never bothered me anyway.”
Children are cupping their hearts and flinging their arms wide in exuberant detachment from care.
How simple and carefree are they? And how happy.
This articulates my Joy.
The slapstick, jaw agape, let-it-go happiness Christ may have been referring to in the book of Matthew. Sometimes growing up does nothing but complicate life in needless miserable ways.
Thank God for children that they may remind us of the beauty in letting go.