Look for God’s ‘tender mercies’

By David Myers
Southwest Kansas Register

A few days ago, just hours after I had spotted a full-sized rabbit grazing in my back yard, I was out mowing when I saw a blur of a tiny creature darting away from the mower. I thought at first that it must be Wayne, a toad that lives in my backyard, but upon further inspection I noticed it was furry and had little ears.
I reached down and gently picked up a baby rabbit, which was uninjured.
His eyes were half closed and he lay quietly in my hand as I marched into the house, sat at the computer and “Skyped” my family. On the computer screen, my dad, mom and sister – all tired and a bit stressed for various reasons -- came into view: “Awwwwe!” they all said, looking at the little guy’s face as I held him up to the webcam, smiles stretching across their tired faces. At that point, I imagine the bunny must have been thinking, “Wow. That’s really cool,” because Skype is really cool, and that’s what everybody thinks.
My sister, who has rescued many a critter in her time, suggested I put the little bunny back, and that the mama would eventually come looking for him. So, after a few more “oohs” and “awwwes” I marched him back out to the yard, and once the bunny was an inch from the dirt, it took off like a rocket, leaving a dust trail in its wake like a car racing across the desert.

I couldn’t help but admire him. Despite the horrible anxiety he must have felt, he was able to take off running into his wild little world.
If only I could handle anxiety so well, I thought.
•   •   •  
It all started about 46 years ago when I began to have difficulty handling stressful situations, an occurrence which happened to coincide with my birth. The moment I left the safety of the womb, I knew I was in for a bumpy ride. The doctor told my mom that it was the first time he had ever seen a newborn come out wringing his hands.
I was a nervous child, as my stomach later would attest. Each morning before gym class my digestive system would communicate to me in painful terms just how much it disapproved of dodge ball.
I became a favorite of the local bullies, who were drawn to my skinny arms, large nose, and unconstrained fear, which they could smell from five classrooms away.  
The ninth grade – the last year of junior high school – was a good year. I ran the mile relay on the school track team, fell in love for the first time and even had my first kiss. Yes, things were going well, my friends. But it wasn’t to last. The next year I entered high school; my girlfriend and I broke up; I was no longer a track star; and had zits been able to be harvested like wheat, I would have made some lucky farmer rich beyond his wildest dreams.
When eventually I entered college, I had no idea what I wanted to do for a career. Being painfully non-aggressive, a very slow note-taker, and a poor speller, I was naturally drawn to journalism.
Some 20 years later, the way I mismanage stress has long-since begun to catch up with me. I rarely express anger, frustration or fear; no, I bottle up my stress, which is one way to ensure that you and your doctor will eventually be on a first name basis:
“Well, Dave,” a doctor recently told me while examining my x-ray, “it seems that your intestine has somehow managed to tie itself into a square knot. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. And your stomach….”
“What about my stomach?”
“Well, it’s very rare, but you seem to have ‘stomach-exititus.’ That’s when the stomach, after years of worry has eroded the lining, tries to detach itself from the body and find another host, one who’s much more, shall we say, sane.”
“Anything else?” I asked, afraid of what his answer might be.
“Weeeeellll, it’s your heart, Dave. You see, most peoples’ hearts have a  soft rumba beat: ba bum, ba bum, ba bum. Anxiety has made yours … well, more akin to jazz: skiddly do wa, wam bam … biddly bo daddy doo. It would be quite entertaining where it not so dangerous.”
I knew that anxiety could greatly affect my physical well-being, but to this extent?
When the anxiety has gotten bad, I’ve tried all sorts of tricks to calm my nerves, from meditation to watching an old movie. One solution I found is to talk it out with a friend or loved one. The other thing that works for me is simply to keep my eyes open for God’s tender mercies, his little miracles that will pop up even in the very, very (one more, and italicized for emphasis) very worst of times. Be patient, be ever watchful, and when they come along, embrace them and thank God for them.
Recognizing God’s little miracles is deeply therapeutic, even if it’s just a few smiles brought on by a brave little rabbit.