Mud on a truck fender, mesquite in my pasture, a picture hanging crooked on the wall can get on my nerves. Cultivating a habit of gratitude helps me deal with irksome imperfections in the world around me. I strive to “lean into gratitude” when circumstances are less than optimum.
            But every defensive line has a weak player or two. Mine is a wide receiver who runs for the sideline to avoid getting tackled.
            I’m referring to my personal tendency to avoid verbal conflict.
            I do everything I can to steer clear of, not just arguments, but any heated conversation about anything under the sun. When this tactic fails and I end up getting snagged into a testy point-counterpoint verbal exchange, I end up replaying the argument for days. While washing my truck, for instance, I’ll catch myself composing brilliant one-liners in my head. While grubbing mesquite, I’ll be thinking up smart aleck come-backs and “Gotcha’, you idiot!” replies that, honestly, I would never speak out loud...even if I were to think of them on the spot.
            I hate it.  
            Instead of getting sacked on the way to the sideline, a better strategy would be to recall the wisdom of the divine Coach, that is to say, conjuring up an Inner Voice that assures me that the entirety of the game does not depend on just one play.
            How does this play-out in day-to-day life? A quick feint to a different metaphor—from gridiron to convent chapel—might complete the pass.
            St. Margaret Mary Alacoque once said: “Each day, I place myself before the Blessed Sacrament and I talk and talk and talk. Then I listen.” In another quote, she alludes to the tree planted near running water in Psalm 1: “ The more the tree is shaken by the wind, the deeper it strikes its roots into the ground.”
            On a practical level, this means abstaining from instant replays of tornado sirens and booming thunder that unfolded inside a stormy conversation. In their place, an appointment with the Coach needs to be scheduled where, after diagraming the botched play, I listen for the reassuring Voice that consistently says, “Shake it off, kid. You play a heck of a game.”
            Or, in Gospel lingo, “You are my son, whom I love. In you I am well pleased.”