I Am Excellent at Stressing

Matthew 6:34 should probably be tattooed to the inside of my eyelids.

I am pretty good at stress. Actually, I excel at stressing, which is not exactly a skill anyone should put on a résumé. Give me one legitimate problem and I can create seventeen possible future problems from it before lunch. I can take a situation that hasn't happened, may never happen, and develop a fairly comprehensive emotional response to it anyway.

Turns out, this may not be my healthiest personality trait.

Recently, I paid a rather significant price for stress. I had a stress-induced Type 2 Takotsubo heart event. Call it a heart attack, cardiomyopathy, broken heart syndrome, or whatever medically precise term belongs in my chart. I'm just going to say this: it was no fun.

The slightly ridiculous part is that I had no idea I was having a heart attack.

But that is a story for another Tuesday.

I'm 59. This was not on the bingo card.

Before this happened, I had been working pretty hard at getting healthier. I had given up Oreos and caramel cone crunch ice cream, which I believe should count as some sort of personal sacrifice. I was eating less of basically everything except protein because I am over 50, and IYKYK. I was losing weight. I was trying to take better care of myself.

Then my heart apparently decided we needed to discuss another category of health entirely.

There is something about having a heart attack that makes everybody start talking about the future.

What if it happens again?

What if something is wrong?

What if you're alone?

What if you travel?

What if you do too much?

What if you don't do enough?

Suddenly my family and I were sitting around discussing all kinds of things that had never occurred to us before because, well, I had a heart attack.

And the strange thing about surviving something unexpected is that you become painfully aware of how many unexpected things are available.

Before, I could pretend there was a reasonable amount of control involved here.

Eat better. Lose weight. Go to the doctor. Pay attention to your bloodwork. Take the medication. Do the responsible things. Avoid living exclusively on Oreos.

Fine.

But you can do all the responsible things and still get handed a plot twist you never saw coming.

That is where Matthew 6:34 gets considerably more annoying.

"Do not worry about tomorrow."

Jesus makes that sound so simple.

Meanwhile, I would like a spreadsheet.

I would like probabilities, contingency plans, emergency contacts, backup emergency contacts, and perhaps a laminated decision tree titled "What We Will Do If Everything Goes Terribly Wrong."

I would especially like a guarantee that everything is going to be fine.

That verse does not give me one.

It doesn't say tomorrow will be easy. It doesn't say nothing bad will happen. It doesn't say good people who love God and eat protein will be exempt from frightening medical events.

It says tomorrow will worry about itself.

Which, frankly, feels less like reassurance and more like God gently removing several files from my desk and saying, "These are not today's problem."

That part I am beginning to understand.

Because I have noticed something about worry. It likes to pretend it is preparation.

Sometimes it is.

Sometimes we absolutely need to make the appointment, buy the insurance, have the uncomfortable conversation, take the medication, write down the emergency number, or change what we're eating.

But sometimes worry is just fear wearing business casual.

It sits down with a clipboard and convinces us it is accomplishing something.

And I am very good at giving it a job.

So now I find myself in this slightly absurd situation where I am trying not to stress about stress.

Which, as you can imagine, could become its own full-time position.

I don't think that's the point either.

I don't think Jesus was telling anxious people to become anxious about their anxiety. I don't think the instruction is, "Stop worrying immediately or you are doing Christianity wrong."

I think maybe it is simpler than that.

What actually belongs to today?

Today I can eat breakfast.

Today I can take care of my body.

Today I can answer the email.

Today I can call my sister.

Today I can laugh at something stupid.

Today I can pray even if the prayer is mostly, "God, I am doing it again."

Today I can live the life that is actually happening instead of spending the whole day rehearsing lives that might.

Tomorrow can wait its damn turn.

I'm still probably going to worry. I have 59 years of practice, and apparently I am an overachiever.

But I am starting to understand why Matthew 6:34 doesn't tell us that tomorrow will have no trouble.

It tells us we don't have to carry tomorrow's trouble today.

And after the last few weeks, that feels like very good news.

Also, I still miss the caramel cone crunch.