Hello, and peace to you today. This is CH (MAJ) Patty Jenkins with the 63d Readiness Division.
My husband bought me a baseball bat for Christmas. I often fantasize about going to a batting cage and taking out my anger and frustration on a stitched leather ball. I have never been to a batting cage in my life, and worried I would embarrass myself if I failed to make contact. So the fantasy never materialized. But now I have a baseball bat. When I unwrapped the bat—technically a softball bat, but let’s not quibble—I gleefully started looking for things to hit.
I have stuff to be frustrated and angry about. I’m sure you do too. Nothing unusual there. What’s different about my anger these days is that I also feel afraid. These days, the world sometimes feels like a nightmare land where terrible giants stalk the living. Where will I hide? What could possibly stop the giants from blindly cutting me down in their trodden path? The fear makes me feel insubstantial, inert. My identity drains away and I become distanced from myself. Untethered.
I know anger has its place in the pantheon. Anger brewed from true injustice brings insight and commitment. Anger caused Jesus to overturn the moneychangers’ tables in the temple. It caused him to snarl at James and John while they were fantasizing about which brother would have more esteem in the kingdom. Anger may have led Jesus to point out that the “poor widow” willing to pour “all her living” into the temple coffers continued to be poor. Anger has its place. But anger mingled with fear is different…it leaks poison. Anger and fear bring chaos and destruction. Maybe that is why the bible is always saying, “Be not afraid!” but never says, “Be not angry!” These days, though, anger and fear lurk around my door.
But I own a baseball bat. I own a baseball bat and five wiffle balls! (I had six but one is now in the neighbor’s tree.) I also have a tee, but we don’t need to talk about that right now. Instead of feeling insubstantial, the physicality of whacking a wiffle ball somehow brings me back into focus. I have feet, hands, shoulders, eyes. I have intention. I have power. I have play and laughter. I have been given a gift. I exist.
Knowing I have love in my life, you all on my side, and a baseball bat in the back yard is a strange and potent Christmas combo. I wish the same healing mysteries for you, these and every day.
Here is the direct email and phone number for anyone requesting support From
the 63d RD Chaplain office,
usarmy.usarc.63-rsc.list.chaplain-all-users@mail.mil
650-526-9668