I’ve talked about worry before. But because of the circumstances we all are living through, I’ve had to remind myself of the futility of worry.
I’ve always seen the glass as half full. Not because I think life is perfect, but because I’ve learned it rarely is — and that’s OK. I’ve found it far more helpful to focus on what’s still there, still possible and still good, even in the face of uncertainty.
All of us realize we live in a world brimming with unpredictability. Some mornings, we set off on what we think is a routine drive to work, and hours later find ourselves saying, “If I had left just one minute later …”
How many of us have quietly acknowledged how close we’ve come to tragedy, and how thin the veil is between what did happen and what might have happened? Those moments don’t always lead to fear. Sometimes, they bring quiet acceptance — a realization that we are exactly where we are meant to be, at least for now.
I remember a situation on a warm summer afternoon in June growing up. I must have been around 8 or 9 years old. My mom, dad, three sisters and I were headed to Hawthorne Park in Grand Junction for an extended family barbecue (I am sure you have similar memories of barbecues or picnics with your own families). The car was packed and spirits were high — until my sisters and I got to arguing (arguments were mostly with my oldest sister. She thought she was the boss of everyone. I have other stories about that, but those are for another time.) and somehow in the melee, we spilled milk all over the hamburgers mom had so carefully prepared. She was understandably upset. When we arrived, she told her older sister we’d need to head back home and make new burgers, as she disapprovingly looked at us. Neither dad, me or my sisters said anything. We knew we were in trouble.
But my aunt Geri, my mom’s older sister, just looked at mom and the tray of burgers and said, “They’re fine, Charlene. No need to get upset or worry about it.” Mom softened a bit as my aunt took the burgers and put them on the grill. They tasted just fine. In fact, the milk might have added some flavor to them.
I’m not sure why that memory stayed with me, but it did, not because of the milk or the hamburgers, but because of the shift in perspective. It was a reminder that sometimes things don’t have to be perfect to still be good. Sometimes, “fine” is enough.
Great thinkers and spiritual teachers have echoed this same wisdom across time. Jesus said, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” The Stoics taught that peace lies in knowing what we can control and releasing what we cannot. Even the Buddha reminded us that holding onto worry is like holding onto hot coals — we’re the ones who get burned. Still, worry clings to us. We say we understand, but we worry anyway.
I try, instead, to wait. Not because I’ve mastered worry, but because I’ve seen what happens when we let it run wild. It drains the joy from now. It steals our sleep, and it never shows up with answers.
My aunt — bless her — used to say, “Don’t go looking for trouble. It knows your address.” And she was right (she was a strong female as well). Trouble finds us without our help. What helps, instead, is quiet acceptance of who, what and where we are. That doesn’t mean giving up or giving in — it means breathing deep and trusting that we’ll handle what comes when it comes.
And so, I live with my glass half full. Not because I think nothing bad will happen, but because I’ve come to believe I’ll have what I need to meet it when it does. Until then, I’ll wait to worry. And while I wait, I’ll live.
Søren Kierkegaard once wrote, “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
And that, I think, is the secret to waiting well.
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Richard Stride is the current CEO of Cascade Community Healthcare.
