In your anger...

Hello, my name is Amy, and I have an anger problem.

I took my son to our eye doctor appointments today. We were long overdue, and I was glad to cross this task off my list. Leave the girls at home and make a quick run to the eye doctor. Such a simple plan.

When we arrived, I discovered they had scheduled our appointments an hour apart instead of immediately after each other. I thought that surely they would rearrange things, since obviously we were together and should be seen together. Uh...no. They stuck to their schedule. Their schedule that they were already behind on. They did my son's exam and then the exams of four...count them, four...other people. An hour and a half later, they still hadn't gotten to me.

As I watched them take first one person, then another, and another and another back before me, I slowly lost my ability to ignore the situation. That was my original plan---just ignore it. The time will just fly by. Somewhere around the forty-five minute mark, that plan began to lose its charm. I could feel that gurgle, gurgle of anger from deep within me. That old, familiar feeling that definitely was not a welcome friend. I exhausted the supply of battered, six month old magazines. I tried to get lost in the Jesus prayer to no avail. I listened to one of the receptionists whistle along to every...single...song that came on the radio. Somewhere along the way, I think I developed a twitch.

I contemplated what my response to the situation should be. There was a time when I wouldn't have hesitated. I would have marched up to the desk and told them a thing or two...or three...or four. I would have made a point and a scene with no second thoughts. That's how I used to live. When I was living in some dark times and some nasty things happened to me. I was good and angry then. I wanted the world to know and feel my pain.

But, I'm not that person any more, right? Right? I don't walk around with my militant feminist, take no prisoners, bleepity-bleep-you attitude anymore. I know where that got me. Someplace much more painful than where I started. I've tried so hard to file that chip on my shoulder down smooth.

Sitting there, I thought about the times I've brought my lingering anger to confession. The wise words of my priest who directed me that it's really just a pride issue. The pride that says I'm so special that everyone should get out of my way. The pride that thinks I should get the respect I deserve! But what do I actually deserve? Nothing. Not a thing. I'm food for worms. Thank God I don't get what I really deserve. Wouldn't be pretty.

Mainly, though, I sat there and thought, "Now how am I going to handle this? I cannot, I mean, I CANNOT walk up there in my headcovering and yell at that receptionist. There's no way I can be the lady in the scarf with my hands on my hips and bile spewing from my mouth. I can't. I won't. If I'm going to wear the scarf, it has to mean something more than just a show on the outside. I have to let it truly change me."

My headcovering felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I saw myself from a distance with my veil. My body covered and my heart still so dark and lacking in humility. Can everyone else see how obvious my sin is? How can I go through a normal day and not see it as profoundly as I did at that moment?

So, I finally came up with the right words. I took a deep breath and walked up to the desk. I voiced my disappointment to the staff. I was firm and obviously frustrated, but I didn't boil over. I think I mostly said what I wanted to say in almost the tone I wanted to use. Could have been a little more refined, but I'm still working on it...

Anger is an interesting little virus. When it sneaks into your heart, it grabs hold with its claws and embeds itself deep. Like a weed, you might try to pull out the part that shows above the surface and think you did the job. But when you walk away, the weed begins its journey to the top again. You didn't get the root. It's still there, just waiting for daylight.

Headcovering is a weapon against that root. It's a powerful tool in the fight against my greatest enemy---myself. I wish I could get people to understand that. It isn't just about keeping up appearances. It's about the part of me you'll never see and I need to open my eyes to realize. It's not about who you think I am but what I want to be for God.

Hello, my name is Amy, and I need my headcovering more today than I ever have. I'm so grateful for it...