Lord, Make Me Unbothered
Despite what people who know me may think, I have a very limited frustration tolerance. Maybe I inherited my grandmother’s temper or perhaps it’s my stubborn Irish streak. I’m not sure what it is that drives it, but I am a very easily bothered person.
My husband can attest to this, though I don’t think he’d ever say so. The littlest annoyance can come up—the sun in my eyes while I’m driving, the mustard falling out of the fridge when I’m trying to grab the jam, or my sweater getting caught on the hanger—and I go from 0-100 in a blink.
Okay, that may be an exaggeration. In fact, I know it is. I go from about 0-4, but it still happens way too often. I’m easily bothered by the little things, huffing and puffing when things don’t go my way, snapping at the cups that come out of the dishwasher dirtier than when I put them in.
“Stupid cups! Stupid dishwasher! Why? Why does this always happen?”
Melodramatic much?
I don’t want to be this way, though. Most people (even my poor husband who must bear with me through my bothered-ness) would say that I’m a generally even-tempered person. I suppose I am because I can be snippy about a small annoyance one minute, and the next, I’m back to my usual chipper self. I hate that I have this nature that seems so...against my nature.
So this is my prayer:
Lord, make me unbothered.