Reviewing Resolutions with Mr. Rogers

I discovered Fred Rogers when I was twenty-six.

It started with the semi-recently released movie "A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood," featuring Tom Hanks. I admired Mr. Rogers' patience, love, and view of the bigger picture, but wasn't sure how real the movie depiction was. Surely no one is actually that patient. That present. That... cardiganed.

From there, I fell down a rabbit hole. I watched Fred Rogers' speech to Congress, where he requested funds for PBS shows that helped children express and understand feelings rather than mindlessly absorb cartoon violence, pranks, and clutter. I read the article by the cynical reporter that inspired the Tom Hanks movie, Maxwell King's biography "The Good Neighbor," and every quote from one of Mr. Rogers' little books. I began listening to Mr. Rogers' songs, establishing favorites that made it into regular rotation: It's You I Like, What Do You Do?, and Won't You Be My Neighbor.

Of course, there is also his reassuring song, You Can Never Go Down the Drain—which, at twenty-six, finally put to rest any lingering concerns about what might happen when I unplugged the bathtub.

Eventually, I gave a speech at my brother's wedding that included not only a quote from Mr. Rogers, but also an exercise pulled directly from his Lifetime Achievement Award Acceptance Address at the Emmy Awards Ceremony in 1997. In his address, he invites the audience to spend ten seconds silently thinking of the people whose love formed them—people who have "loved us into being." Even though I have done this exercise many times, each time I am quite likely to cry. It was fortunate for me that crying is socially acceptable at weddings.

Am I Just One Thing?

In an almost childish way, I have always been drawn to characters of clear and unique nature. Mr. Rogers was wistful, compassionate, and patient.

I wanted to be like him. But I am not the pure and unadulterated character of anything. I can be sarcastic, gentle, blunt, kind, patient, impatient, elegant, clever, goofy, and thoroughly stupid—sometimes all in the same conversation. I'm certain that being unbreakably compassionate and patient is not easy for anyone, and I'm no exception.

Besides all this, I love writing dark, sardonic jokes about the struggles of academia and physics. This does not typically align with the Mr. Rogers aesthetic.

I lack the discipline—or perhaps even the desire—to fully emulate deeply inspirational figures who seem to have mastered some core practice of grace. I do not think I will ever craft every word into gentle tones of positivity, patience, and understanding like Mr. Rogers did. Apparently, it drove some of the people he worked with a little crazy, and while I'm confident I could pull off that part, the rest takes practice. And practice means deciding not to pursue one thing in favor of another.

This is partly why I enjoy reading biographies—St. Antony facing demons, St. Therese viewing every little action as a way to please the Lord, George Müller and his extraordinary faith in God's providence. With a few hours of reading, I can see what stirs my soul without yet having committed myself to the actual training required.

Despite being a Christian with the perfect example to follow (Jesus), it often feels somehow more doable to copy people like Mr. Rogers. It can be hard not to give up in the face of perfection, which is why I imagine Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 11:1, "You should imitate me, just as I imitate Christ."

The Wake-Up Call

As I met up with some students for discipleship recently, I was struck once again by the image of Mr. Rogers dropping everything to give his full attention to a child. I realized how busy I was. How tired I was. Again.

September had been a long month of hard work. During those busy days, nutrition fell by the wayside. Along with sleep habits. And exercise. I am happy to announce that I'm on day 11 of not considering peanut butter a full meal appropriate for daily consumption. Which is good.

But more than my physical habits, I was reminded of how difficult it is to be present, patient, and un-rushed when schedules are too busy.

If some people are what they eat, then I am what I read. So, in further pursuit of making Jesus my first love, I began reading biographies and autobiographies of saints and exceptional Christians, to be shaped by their examples.

And Mr. Rogers' example came back to haunt me—in the best way.

So, I once again made a list of all obligations and began crossing off those which were not essential. Apparently, I do this every few months when I remember that humans need sleep and shouldn't live on peanut butter alone. At least a few weeks' break could help me reset and be more present.

Because maybe I can't be Mr. Rogers all the time. Maybe I'll always be sarcastic sometimes, and goofy sometimes, and blunt sometimes. But I can practice being present. I can practice dropping everything to give my full attention to those moments where it counts. And it seems to me that there are a lot more of those moments to be had if I only pay attention.

That much seems worth the practice.