One lesson I learned as a child was to not interrupt people. Both my parents and my second-grade teacher emphasized this.
My teacher, on the first day of school, instructed us, “If you see me speaking with someone else, ask yourself, is there a fire, or is someone bleeding to death? If the answer is no, then you will just have to wait.”
Every time a student interrupted her, the conversation went like this,
Teacher: Is there a fire?
Student: No, but . . .
Teacher: Is someone bleeding to death?
Student: No, but . . .
Teacher: Then wait.
One week in second grade, I had the responsibility of changing the water in the gerbil cage. I was so excited! After I followed the instructions just right, and the gerbil was happily drinking away, I put my finger in the cage so I could pet him. The gerbil welcomed the water, but not my finger, and he bit me – hard. I yelped as I pulled my finger away and saw that I was bleeding.
I went over to my teacher who was talking to another teacher and as I was about to interrupt her, I remembered her very clear instructions. I could not quite picture what bleeding to death looked like, but I knew that wasn’t happening to me. So, I waited and waited and waited while they talked and talked and talked. I didn’t know when they’d ever stop and I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I started to cry.
My teacher kept talking while the other teacher looked at me and exclaimed, “Emily, you’re bleeding!” Finally, my teacher looked at me in surprise, then grabbed a paper towel to stop the blood. She asked me gently, “Why didn’t you interrupt me to tell me you were bleeding?” I said, “Well, I knew I wasn’t bleeding to death, so I waited.” I’ll never forget the incredulous look on her face.
After getting patched up by the school nurse and returning to the classroom, my teacher clarified her instructions to the class, “from now on, if anyone is bleeding AT ALL, you may interrupt me.”
Now that I am middle-aged, I find that I have become very impatient with interruptions. I not only get interrupted when I’m already speaking with someone but also when I’m in prayer. It doesn’t matter if I’m sitting in chapel with my eyes closed, with a rosary in hand, waiting in line for confession, or even standing and praying the Stations of the Cross. That doesn’t stop people from interrupting me.
My initial reaction is to get annoyed and frustrated; however, a little voice reminds me that no one interrupts my prayer more than I do. When praying, I’m tempted to peek at my phone (and sometimes I do); I think about all the things on my to do list; I allow my mind to wander and don’t bring it back. Then, my mind is consumed with self-loathing for having done all those things (which ironically is still interrupting my prayer).
I once learned that the best thing to do when I catch myself indulging in my distractions is to offer a quick prayer saying, “Thank you, God, for bringing me back!” That helps me to turn my attention back to Him and not myself.
Sometimes, our interruptions are from God Himself! Has someone you haven’t thought of in years come to your mind repeatedly? Maybe you dreamt about an old schoolmate. Perhaps they need your prayers, a phone call, or even a visit!
Although a firm focus on what we’re saying to God is good, too much rigidity causes us to miss what He is saying to us – and like a little girl and a gerbil bite, it might actually be important. If we learn to be a little flexible (as my second-grade teacher did), we can balance our distractions while keeping an open mind and heart.
Sister M. Emily Vincent Rebalsky, IHM, is the program director at Villa Maria by the Sea Retreat Center, Stone Harbor.
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