Praying the Joyful Anxieties.

One morning as I was praying the Rosary it struck me: every single one of the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary has anxiety provoking triggers for me. 

"Wait a second," you say. "Isn't the Rosary is supposed to be a peaceful, meditative prayer in which we focus on events in the life of Christ and the Blessed Mother?" It's twenty-or-so minutes of prayer, giving us the time to really, mindfully dwell on each of these events, giving our prayer intentions or those of others over to Our Lady and counting on her intercession. So, yes, it's supposed to be peaceful. And for most people it is.

As a naturally anxious person it's not a big leap for me to find some anxiety in just about everything. It really is a constant battle. But this was maybe taking it a bit too far. The Joyful Mysteries are supposed to be joyful, happy scenes that remind us of Jesus' conception, birth, and childhood. What can be scary about any of that?

The Joyful Anxieties

I could call these the "wait, what?" mysteries. What did you say? What just happened? What did you do? A big part of my anxiety is just really being caught off guard by what other people would consider pretty normal situations, or even super happy, joyful ones. And being caught off guard can send me reeling. Here's the way I saw it:

The Annunciation - Fear of Big Life Changes

A young, devout Jewish girl is visited by The Archangel, the head message-bearer, who is here to tell her that she's going to have a kid even though she's an unmarried virgin. There's nothing anxiety-provoking about that right? Well maybe not for you. But for me this is a "wait, what?" moment. 

I let myself go to that anxious moment in my own mind. My inclination would be to throw whatever I have in my hand at Gabriel's head and run screaming from the room. But I just have to stop and look at what Mary does instead. Gabriel doesn't "ask" her per se, as in will-you-do-this-yes-or-no. He says this is going to happen. And instead of freaking out or saying "uh uh, no way" she says "let it be done to me according to your word." 

Mary just said okay to the Big Life Change of all life changes of all time. Her son will be known as the son of the Most High. And she just says, "let it be done to me according to your word?" She believed that what he said was true, and also that God wasn't going to hurt her. Whatever happened he loved her and chose her and she was good with it. She trusted him.

Anxious human that I am, I want to try and bring Mary's reaction to mind when I am faced with big life changes. Job changes. Health changes. Unexpected problems. Things breaking. People leaving. And even though I still get anxiety, the jitters and all kinds of palm-sweaty-nervousness, I can try, imperfectly, to say as she did, "let it be done to me according to your word."

The Visitation - Fear of Extroverting

So the unmarried virgin, now pregnant, travels "in haste" to her cousin's house, some eighty miles away. Because her elderly cousin is also pregnant, very pregnant, Mary goes to help her out. Two women, two babies, one conceived by the Holy Spirit, the other one conceived in old age. Lots of hormones and lots of pregnancy emotions. All shut up in close quarters for a few months. Nothing could go wrong in this scenario, right?

First of all, anything done "in haste" automatically sends me into a panic. Rushing equals freaking out and freaking out leads to nothing good. But worse: having to deal with people is hard. It would be much easier to stay home, phone it in, and just send a nice card or a fruit basket and wish them all well and good luck with the new baby.

Of course, Mary isn't like me. And if she had done things my way she would have been out a hundred bucks for a fruit basket and missed out on all the things that made this hard trip totally worth it. Like Elizabeth's reaction to her coming, Baby John dancing a jig in his mom's belly, and knowing that even though this is weird and difficult, God has a plan and she gets to be part of it.

As an anxiety-ridden introvert, my favorite parties are cancelled parties. Too much people-contact, for too long, saps my energy and makes me feel even more brittle. It's not realistic for me to be a hermit, so I huddle in my quiet space and power back up so that I do have the capacity to interact in my work and in my personal life. But outside of that I don't put myself out there much. What Mary can teach me here is a lot, but it is sort of a bitter pill: put yourself out there and see what God does, or sit at home and miss it. Human beings are the most sacred things I'll encounter on planet earth. Mary knew that.

Nativity of Jesus - Fear of Things Not Going as Planned

Mary and Joseph have to go to Bethlehem for this whole census thing, and the timing is just horrible because in a packed city, with no rooms available, she goes into labor and has to have the baby in a barn or a cave but definitely not in a clean, pretty place. This freaks me out.

So if I'm Mary I would have been having a total meltdown in the streets of Bethlehem, humiliating my poor husband and causing an embarrassing scene. This is NOT the way this was supposed to happen. Although Scripture doesn't tell us what she said that night as this was all going down, we know she gave birth to Jesus, wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger. Angels sang. Shepherds came. She pondered. All indications are that she let it be done to her according to his word.

My whole life I have tried to corral everything into some kind of plan that made sense to me. Things should indeed happen in a certain order, I believe, so there's a logic to it. I mean, some of it is debatable, like do you dust first then vacuum or vacuum first then dust. But regardless, it's my plan. The plan exists to control anxiety. To make things predictable. 

But the thing is, nothing ever really goes according to the plan. And never has. Most of my big life moments have gone completely outside the order I wanted or predicted. And even though I probably didn't "ponder" as well as I should have, I do see the point of it all later on. Even if it seems like the opposite of the way God's Son should have come into the world, there's a reason Mary gave birth to Jesus in a pitiful place. It was part of the Big Plan to save us.

Presentation in the Temple - Fear of the Future

This one has so many anxiety-provoking issues, it's not even funny. So Joseph and Mary, according to the law, bring the baby to the temple to consecrate him to God. There's a ceremony with some doves and a "ransom" and whatnot. All good and they are just being totally faithful. Then this happens. Some old guy comes up to them and says stuff about now that he's seen Jesus he can die, and oh yes, Mary, your baby is going to be a sign that will be opposed, and by the way a sword is going to pierce your heart. Have a nice day and congratulations on the consecration. 

Scripture says that Mary and Joseph were amazed at what was said about Jesus. Now I assume they would have been sort of quietly amazed, unlike the way I would have reacted which would probably have been more like: What in the literal what. Then I would have asked a zillion frantic questions followed by breathing into a paper bag with my head between my knees. I'm guessing Joseph and Mary didn't react that way. I mean everything about their life together as a family has been anything but ordinary, so maybe they just thought, "that seems about right." 

The future is a dark and scary place for someone like me. Knowing some things that are inevitably coming can turn into "borrowing trouble" and obsessing about things like deaths in the family, losing my little dog, future illnesses or surgeries, and so on. And those are the things we can pretty well predict. Add to that all the stuff I can't predict and it can send me diving for the foxhole. 

The end of this story could help me frame this fear of the future. When Mary and Joseph had followed all the prescriptions of the law related to Jesus' consecration, they just went home. They just went. This is the kind of trustful abandonment I want in my life. They went home and took care of Jesus. All the rest would take care of itself. 

Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple - Fear of Never Finding It

Every year for Passover Mary, Joseph and Jesus make the trek to Jerusalem for the feast. This one time, when Jesus was twelve, Joseph and Mary are on their way back to Nazareth with the group they came with, and they couldn't find Jesus. So, most likely tired from the trip they have to backtrack to Jerusalem and hunt for their missing kid. How many times in the three days they searched did they fear the worst. 

When Joseph and Mary ultimately find Jesus in the temple, Scripture tell us that Mary said, "Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety." My reaction may have been more high drama, with a lot of screaming and hand flailing, but pretty much would have been: where-were-you-why-did-you-do-this-we-told-you-to-stay-with-us-what-the-heck-were-you-thinking? But essentially I think their anxiety was a human reaction to losing track of their preteen child. Reunion hugs and tears, and a bop upside his head and we'll all laugh about this little incident later on.

This mystery has a happy ending. It's a Joyful Mystery after all. They lost Jesus and then found him, right were he knew he belonged, in the temple.

As an anxious person, I've always been on the hunt for something. Something to make me feel safer, smarter, more accepted, calmer, younger, prettier, funnier, whatever. I can spend hours researching various methods, tricks, and tips to help me make it through a day or a situation. I'm pretty much always on a quest for the one thing I need, and fear that I will never find it. 

The truth is, I know where to look, I'm sometimes stubborn, or just want it to be easy. Jesus is who I am searching for, ultimately, and I know where to find him even if it takes me a few frantic days. He's always in the tabernacle, in the Eucharist, in communion. I find him there, and take him with me.

All the Mysteries

Pope Saint John Paul II called the Rosary a "marvelous prayer. Marvelous in its simplicity and its depth." I love this because it's so true. In my own life many days I pray the rosary and it is just "simple." But other days, when my heart is more open, I believe God reveals some deeper truths of the mysteries in a very personal way. It can be a little unnerving, having some of those feelings dredged up. But in the process it also feels like a healing has started. So I'll keep going. Mystery by mystery, anxiety by gut-wrenching anxiety. This ought to be good.