After Dan left, I felt sorry for Mum that she had missed a golden opportunity to have her phone number registered in the comfort of the sofa she relaxes during the day. Then I felt compelled to use my energy to look for her ID. I ferreted around the house in search of the missing ID to no avail.
Not content with my efforts, I again searched for Mum's ID the following morning before she woke up, hoping to find it on the sofa where she keeps her medicine and important documents. I looked for it below the cushions and beneath the sofa. Despite my diligent and careful search, I didn't find it.
Having not found the ID, I feared Mum's phone number would be shut off now that she didn't have the ID required to register it. I imagined the time and energy she would use to apply for another ID. And given that she is currently crippled, I thought of the money that would be incurred in hiring a taxi to ferry her to government offices.
As those thoughts raced through my mind, I felt weighed down by Mum's missing ID. Later on, I thought it unwise to worry over a replaceable piece of paper that is the national identity card. What was worth worrying about, I said to myself, was something like Mum being diagnosed with ovarian cancer. With that, I made peace with the fact that Mum's ID was lost and happily went about my other business.
The lesson I had learnt from Mum's lost ID, however, seemed not to have hit home given the way I found myself fussing over another minor issue that arose in the afternoon of last Friday. This is what happened: Mum received an SMS that said she could register her phone number online. Since Mum doesn't know a thing about the internet, I took it upon myself to register her number by following the link in the SMS.
I hurriedly opened the link, hoping to beat the registration deadline that was on the midnight of that day. But alas! Mum's phone turned out to be too outdated to successfully register her number. When I opened the link using my more advanced smartphone, I didn't receive the code required to complete the registration of phone numbers.
Being a detail-oriented person, I was thrown off balance by my inability to register Mum's phone number. My spirits drooped so much that when time to practise the piano reached, I played the instrument without my usual enthusiasm. Not even playing the wonderful old hymn "Abide With Me" succeeded in lifting my spirits.
Fortunately, I felt rejuvenated about an hour later when I learnt from the internet that the government had extended the registration deadline for phone numbers by six months. I shared the news with my parents. While Mum appeared unaffected by the news, I felt happy for her that her phone number wouldn't be shut off later on in the day as I had expected. How foolish I had been for getting worked up about that minor issue!
And that's the problem with me: I have a habit of sweating the small stuff, a habit that often robs me of the joy I need to enjoy the present. From now on, I will strive not to let minor issues sour my day. I will heed the advice of the great French author Andre Maurois who observed:
Often we allow ourselves to be upset by small things we should despise and forget... Here we are on this earth, with only a few decades to live, and we lose many irreplaceable hours brooding over grievances that, in a year's time, will be forgotten by us and by everybody. No, let us devote our life to worthwhile actions and feelings, to great thoughts, real affections and enduring undertakings. For life is too short to be little.My beloved reader, I beseech you to also not sweat the small stuff. As H. Jackson Brown Jr. aptly put it, don't confuse mere inconveniences with real problems. And when you find yourself fussing about something, ask yourself, "Will it matter a year from now?" If it won't, don't let it steal your joy. Happy Easter Sunday!
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RECOMMENDATION: If you've enjoyed the above story on not sweating the small stuff, you might also enjoy another one on "Breaking the Worry Habit" which I wrote about a year ago. Just click on that link in blue to dive straight into the story.
