So, several weeks ago I put together one of my four-times-a-season retreat breakfasts for the wonderful, wonderful choir to which I belong. (Be sure to get your tickets now.) I had actually done a pretty good job of getting things done ahead of time, making up my chile-corn-cheese casseroles the night before and also the cranberry-orange rolls from Smitten Kitchen. (Mine didn’t have glaze–too sweet.) I had loaded up the car with supplies the night before also, a task I usually postpone until the frantic morning of the event. Really, as I look back on the whole thing I don’t see any particular reason for me to have been at all frazzled. I think that perhaps I didn’t get on the road quite as early as I meant to, but even that’s a little doubtful.
Even so, I blew into the choir room with a full head of steam, putting on what was actually (now that I look at it) kind of a frenzied show. I had no intention of being deceptive or dramatic; in a way, I guess, I was playing to type. The tables were set up, the coffee was going, the helpers were on hand. I immediately set someone to work putting the bagels (which Jim had picked up) into baskets and another to dealing with the rolls. We got the chafing dish going. Everything was just fine. Soon people started trickling in.
But as the event started, one of my friends and helpers came up to me. “What can we do so that you don’t have to be like this?” he asked. I looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” “So that you don’t have to be so upset,” he added, or something to that effect. I was pretty taken aback. Was I? Was I coming across as being someone who needed emotional help? Oh dear. Not what I meant to do at all! I was just . . . being me. And I realized that I could just as easily have come in calmly, smiling, and gotten everything going without all the drama. I’m so used to the last-minute angst, though, that even when I’ve managed for once to have a handle on things I still manufacture some. Have to say, my actions in this regard are pretty junior high-ish. My son used to say that whenever I was in the midst of a big cooking extravaganza there would come a point when he just needed to leave the room. I don’t think I paid enough attention to what he said; I thought it was kind of funny, and indeed I think (I think) he meant it to be a joke, sort of. He did say recently that he’d been noticing that I’m a lot calmer these days, so that’s progress, I guess.
But still. I need to realize, once again, that how I act has a tremendous impact on others; my outward emotional behavior can cause others to “catch” the same feelings. I think of the times when I’ve been in a bad mood and cast a pall on an outing. When others have done that, I’ve wondered why they couldn’t just suck it up and be nice. Well, good question! The same thing could be asked of me. I need to remember the principle that I read in a little book of wise quotations:
“No matter what is going on around you, keep your cool.”