I have a bit of a confession to make. I really like apricot jam. I know, I know, that isn’t much of an actual confession, but I am warming up. I love homemade apricot jam the most, but if I can’t get my hands on that, I settle for a very specific brand. I will not be coy. I love Bonne Maman apricot jam. The jars hold actual sunshine in them, which makes sense as I have recently learned that the Latin root of apricot, apricus, means filled with sunshine. That name was clearly given after tasting apricots.

Earlier this summer, being thwarted in my attempts to obtain a lug of apricots for making jam, I settled for my favorite store-bought brand. Except the issue was, I was not really shopping around and they don’t sell that brand at my usual haunts. Even Amazon failed me. Not to be deterred, I figured a back stock of the good stuff would be a decent plan. Being that the year is 2020, I decided to a few jars delivered from a different grocery store which was advertising free (!) delivery of groceries once you spent $50. No problem. I was precise in my order and checked the little no substitutes button, assured that all was well, if not in the world, but in my little order of sunshine.

I think you can see where we are headed. As I happily unpacked my order, I discovered jars of a very different brand, the house brand from the grocery store. To really twist the knife, they were even a smaller size. This story easily could have ended there, but here is where the confession really comes in. For about 10 seconds I was upset. Then that shifted rather quickly. I was angry. Righteous indignation swept over me and it felt…good. It was so black and white and simple. In the middle of months of uncertainty, where the shifting sands beneath my feet made me almost seasick, that anger may have been the most certain I had felt. I had been wronged.

The fact that it was over jam was almost immaterial, although definitely not less embarrassing in the retelling. Thank goodness I was alone in my kitchen or I may have become Jam Jane on the internet, a “Karen” of preserves. As it was, I stood in my kitchen by myself and had a bit of a mental temper tantrum. I looked in other bags thinking surely they must be elsewhere. I may even have wondered if this was some suburban quarantine version of punk’d. I was not so far gone to consider that likely for long, I mean, watching entitled white women get angry about ridiculous or indefensible things surely couldn’t be entertainment, right?

After a few minutes, I was able to see a way forward. I contacted the nice shopping people through the app on my phone and they reimbursed me with no need to bring back the offending jam. I was still without what I wanted, but at least I wasn’t paying for it. It was really quite simple, but I wasn’t done just yet. I needed to spend a few minutes examining why feeling angry felt so good.

What I kept coming back to in my more reflective state, was how easy it was to just be angry. It required nothing more than a careful examination of my own feelings. I expected something, I paid for something and I didn’t get it. Lots of me in that outline. The piece missing is anyone else. In my original assessment, there was no consideration for the fact that while the transaction was completely handled on my phone, there were other people involved–real humans with names, and feelings and mothers and fathers and hopes and dreams (dreams that probably that don’t revolve around jam!).

As I look around the world, or certainly our country right now, I see how easy it is to get angry and to feel wronged. There is certainly no shortage of grist for that mill about things much more serious than jam. But that is the point of this confession. The stakes are higher and it is so easy to allow ourselves to get sucked into our own narrative with absolutely no consideration of others. However, I think we would all do well to decenter ourselves from the narratives going on. What would it look like if I wasn’t worried as much about me?

Easier said than done I suppose, but I can’t help but wonder about some of the great stories of our life would have been altered if the main characters were only worried about themselves. We certainly wouldn’t have the grace of Jesus on the cross, nor the gift of salvation. But we can look to pure humanity if that feels like an easier comparison, not God incarnate.

How about the Good Samaritan of biblical fame? The story of an immigrant giving up their time and money to care for a stranger, when other supposedly “Godly” people had walked to the other side of the road to avoid passing the badly beaten man. Or how about the widow Jesus praised who left her only coins in the donation box?

Maybe it would be apropos to consider something from our collective history where the main character is the American people? If Rosie the Riveter hadn’t gone to work because she was focused on what she was giving up, or if everyday Americans hadn’t accepted rationing of basic necessities what would have changed in World War II? Did you know speed limits were decreased to 35 mph because it made tires last four times longer during the war? This was essential because Japan had captured all of the rubber-producing locations in Southeast Asia. The American people were able to set aside their individual whataboutmeism for someone, or in this case, something else.

I am not sure if I have ever heard a story that made me feel great, hopeful, or even inspired that involved the main character/s focused solely on themselves. Even the everyday variety where people donate blood or let someone in the grocery store line in front of them? Definitely not only focused on themselves.

Maybe it is the times we live in, the desperation, and lack of margin in a modern life that makes us think we have to constantly be looking out for number one. Or maybe it is just our human nature to be that way. I definitely think it is easier to keep the focus there. It feels simpler. However, I am not content with a simple, angry, life.

I want more for my life, for my children, and for my world than that. So I am going to resolve to do better. I am going to try to relocate myself a little less in the center of the story, and to think about where others fit in a bit more, even when I am angry or upset, maybe even especially then. I think I know of a decent way to start. It may even require a jar of any brand apricot jam.