Getting A Handle on Anger

I don’t like conflict. Let me say it again. I do not like conflict. And I’m not very gifted at dealing with it when it comes up. When I was in my thirties, my dad offered me some advice. He said that he had a trick when things got dicey. When people began to irritate him, he “fogged” the problem. He mentally took a can of gray spray paint and covered the thing until his irritation subsided, and he could think clearly. “You can’t let your emotions get in the way. Just fog them,” he said.


It worked for dad, but it doesn’t work for me. I have used his gray fogger many times. The problem does not go away. Sorry, Dad. The people still irk me.


Only one thing works for me, and it is not a fogger. It is real. It is true re-ordering of my inner self. It happens during Mass.


My emotions are not squelched. They are transformed. My memory isn’t erased or covered over, it is directed beyond.


The One that I have offended in so many ways – on so many days – communes with me.


He doesn’t overlook my weakness. He tells me to give him that part, too. Not just the good stuff. The worst parts of me. And he takes all of it and nails it to a tree.


The Body of Christ.


The Blood of Christ.


And when I turn to look at the ones who sometimes irk me, I hear the One who has forgiven me of some really awful stuff.


And yes, there is a fair bit of emotion. Yes, there is a memory. But it is not the kind of emotion that gets in the way of reconciliation. It’s not the kind of memory that sabotages relationships. It’s the kind of emotion and memory that transforms all things.


Like standing with Mary at the foot of the cross and knowing that Mary’s Son embraced this death for me – while I was still in sin.

Getting A Handle on Anger