The iPod

I got my mom an iPod for her birthday. I think it’s a great solution for her. She loves music, but continues to buy entire CD’s for one, favorite song. Then, she has to ask her tech-savvy friends to burn those “one songs,” onto some sort of compilation disc, so she can have those songs in her car. I figure, if I can help her set it up, the iPod is going to be her very favorite gift of all time. Music. What better gift than music for a woman who still does The Pony in her own living room?

This was my hope. As soon as I got the gadget into my car, however, I started second guessing. Actually, there was a point at which I could picture myself handing her the neatly wrapped package and saying, “Happy birthday, Mom. This year, I got you a giant argument between you and me,” because I suspected my mom might look at the tiny music player with the confusing selection wheel, and immediately get discouraged. If she did, then no matter how easy I tried to make it sound, she would set her jaw and say, “I can’t use that thing.” To which I would respond, “Yes, you can! See? It’s easy!” She would pretend to look, but not hear a word of my instruction, if that happened. Gosh. I could only hope she didn’t get discouraged before we began.

Now, you might be thinking, “Why would you give your mother a gift she’s going to hate?” And my answer would be, “Because after she gets done hating it, I know she’s going to love it!” How do I know this? Because I am my mother. And I hate change, and new ideas, and feeling like I don’t understand. I want to know how to do everything, and be really good at it, before anyone sees me struggling. (It’s one of the reasons I don’t take Zumba classes. I hate to be the one flailing in the back row.) At the same time, however, I know, from past experience, that if I just stop resisting things, if I stop pushing and rushing and trying to get to the end, if I stop hating the situation or process, it won’t be long before I love it.

I had a nursing school instructor inform me that her entire intention was to keep me off balance, challenge me, and push me, and that, if I didn’t feel uncomfortable, she couldn’t teach me everything I needed to know. She said I would hate learning, but that I would love nursing. As soon as she explained that she expected me to feel incapable and clueless, the discomfort was, somehow, easier to manage. I had been given the faith I needed to trust that the sick feeling I got for being flung around the “learning curve” would end. And after it ended, I would have the benefit of relief, new knowledge, and experience. And I would be free, only then, to enjoy applying what I had learned.

So, this week, I want to ask you if you are resisting, fighting back, or closing your mind to something new and uncomfortable. Not everything uncomfortable is something that should be avoided. In fact, more often than not, it’s something that could, if given the chance, be something you love. I hope my mom sees it that way. You know? I really should learn to do The Pony with her in her living room, or take a Zumba class when I get back to Nashville… Even if I have to flail a little, at first.