breathe

Breathe in, breathe out.

Running down the hill towards the station, I see the light rail doors close 5ft in front of my face, and they don’t reopen even when I push the button outside. Time lost, time with my babies at home – my frustration rises.

Breathe in, breathe out.

A client at work sends our group an insulting, misogynistic email that takes my breath away with its rudeness. I don’t write the emails, but in my head I think of all the ways I wish I could respond in the sudden rush of anger.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The software I have to use to interface with the machines at work is unwieldy and glitchy; trying for the third time to accomplish a tedious task, I close my eyes and count to ten to keep myself from yelling at the computer.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Let the anger fade.

My temper flares up so quickly at these relatively trivial things. I only lost ten minutes waiting for the train; caustic words from a single encounter soon lose their sting. Am I going to let that anger linger, let it seep into my home with me and taint the time we have together?

Breathe in, breathe out.

I can commit the anger to God, if I can’t let it go on my own; I can release myself into His peace when my own inner peace is in tatters; I can prepare my heart to greet my family with joy when I come home.