'What, me worry?'

By DAVID MYERS
Southwest Kansas Register
Nov. 13, 2011
THE CALL
I had finally learned to say, “Who cares?” and it felt great. It wasn’t the ornery “Who cares?” you might get from a child after you remind him that the cat can’t open a can of Tender Vittles. It was the “Who cares?” that allowed me to toss aside the worry that often consumed me. God was in charge, I remembered.
For a worry wart like me, that was big; to go to sleep at night without worry was bliss.
Then I got the call. A couple of weeks ago I received a call, as I often do, from someone wanting to update their SKR mailing information, which was fine. But then it got weird. She told me to hold for her boss. When you get a weird call, and they tell you to hold for their boss, hang up. That’s my advice. Just hang up. Me? I didn’t hang up. When he finally came on the phone, I was barely able to convince him that I didn’t own the Register. I listened as he spouted off his speech like a record on super high speed. Combined with his thick accent, he sounded like what you might hear if you happened upon someone being attacked by a flock of humming birds. When he was finally finished, he asked, “Do you understand?” I hadn’t understood a single word he said, so naturally I answered, “Sure”.    
“Is that a yes?” he asked like a drill sergeant.
“Sure.”
“Is that a yes?” he repeated, so robot-like that I wondered for a moment if he wasn’t a cyborg.
“Yes, but --”
“Thank you. You’ll receive your confirmation email within seven days.” (click)
“Hello? … Um … Hello?” The caller-ID read “Unknown.” The location of my brain was also “unknown.” Had I just signed the diocese up for new long distance carrier? A new internet service, perhaps? Or, as “owner” of the SKR, had I inadvertently begun the process of moving the Register operations to India?
I don’t like being taken advantage of. I don’t like feeling stupid. And I don’t like knowing there are guys like this in the world. And I had just accomplished all three in five minutes. Suddenly, the worry was back. No amount of “Who cares?” would alleviate it.
“You’re not stupid, you’re just too accommodating,” I was later told. Actually I was talking to myself, but I appreciated it all the same.
In the days to follow my phone call from India, as I waited for whatever I had signed up for, I was filled with anxiety. My ulcer called out to me: “Doofus! Doofus!” Sometimes I’d forget my anxieties and go about my day happily. But then the memory would invariably pop back in my head, new and fresh.
“Ninety percent of the things we worry about never occur,” I repeated like a mantra, knowing this would be the one that would occupy that last 10 percent.
Then, a week later at church, a prayer was offered for release of all those anxieties and worries that we may be feeling. When I walked out of the church, they were gone. Wow. Just like that. Never underestimate the power of the One who is in charge.
As for the cyborg, I never heard from him again.
FOCUS!
While this probably happens to you, it never happens to me. Not even when I pray. Not even when I pray at night. Not even when I pray at night and I’m really, really tired. Then again:
“Dear Lord, thank you for a great day. I got a lot of work done; I arrived home safe and sound. Well, there was that guy who cut me off. That really made me mad, Lord. Then he has the gall to give me the stink-eye! You know what I should have done? I should have slammed on my breaks, flipped around and chased him like ... like Mannix.
“Man, that guy was a jerk. I wish there was an island that was only for jerks, where all the jerks of the world would be sent when it’s discovered they’re jerks.
“Gilligan’s Island was a cool island. I wouldn’t mind hanging out there. Mary Anne; she was a looker. It would be cool to be on that island with just Mary Anne. Of course, then I’d be expected to be smart like the professor, when I’m more along the lines of Gilligan. I couldn’t open a coconut much less make a radio out of one. That could be embarrassing. Besides, I’ve never really been able to talk to girls. It would be awfully quiet on that island. I wish I were smart enough to make radios out of fruit. Is a nut a fruit? Is a coconut a nut? Sometimes I feel like a nut. Sometimes I don’t. Almond Joy’s got nuts; Mounds don’t.  Dang. Now that jingle’s going to be in my head all night.
“(Yawn.) I wish I had kept my leftover Halloween candy. ‘Sometimes I feel like a nut…!’ Dang. There it goes again. Don’t like those vampire movies. Now Frankenstein, there was a monster! (Yawn.) ‘Friend?’ Yeah, I’ll be your friend. I don’t judge people (yawn) by their neck bolts. You just sit right down and have some soup.’ (Yawn.) And the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Those gills? (Yawn.) That fish mouth? Man (yawn), that was creep – zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
•  •  •
I can remember as a child talking to a friend on the telephone. At one point, he asked me to hold on. Five minutes later I was still holding on, still waiting. I could hear voices in the background, including my friend’s. Another few minutes passed. I finally hung up and walked down the street to his house. Looking in his door, I could see him sitting on the couch watching TV. He had forgotten I was on the phone!
In one sense, every moment of our lives is a prayer.  God is always listening to us. Hearing us. He knows every thought, every yearning, whether said in active prayer or not.
But there are those moments, those golden moments, when we actively take part in conversation with God. Those are the times when I need to focus -- especially when I’m tired. I don’t want God to ever be that guy on the other end of the line asking, “Well, he was there a minute ago. Did we get cut off? Hello? ... Hello?”