The Worry Train

I remember the days when the baby only let me sleep 4 hours a night and the 1 year old woke up daily from a great sleep ready to go. And go and go and go. And I worried that I let him watch too much Wiggles and that he didn't play outside enough and that the baby would think we didn't love him. Because he WAS kinda hard to like sometimes. And I worried that the husband would forget what I looked like. The real me. Because he only saw zombie me and I was too tired to tell him how much I adored him. Worry after worry that were just tearing my heart out. And I remember one morning thinking..."If the kids would just sleep one night. One whole night! I wouldn't have to worry about all this stuff and I could just be happy." 

And then there was a blur of days and weeks and months. And I looked up and the kids weren't babies anymore. And I noticed the Wiggles hadn't permanently brain damaged anyone, the big one spent hours chasing ants down the driveway, and the baby had carved an indelible place in all our hearts. And the husband. Well he had seen me all along. And when he pulled me around the corner to kiss me senseless when he got home from work, I sighed with relief. We had made it. All the way through the valley of the shadow of babies and toddlers. And we were still us. I could stop worrying.

SAID NO ONE EVER.

Of course I couldn't stop worrying. I just traded in my old worries for newer, bigger, scarier ones. Too much Wiggles? I laughed at my own stupidity. Breaking their brain was nothing compared to hurt feelings and screen time fights and first cavities and choosing preschools. Or the big Kahuna. Giving them the wrong answers! I gulped when Wesley asked why people stop being married and what soldiers do at the war and why God made tornadoes. Not sleeping was lookin' like a piece of cake from here sister! But I manned up. I learned that milkshake medicine helps when your friend says you're weird. I secretly swapped out juice for flavored water. I toured schools like nobody's business and I googled stuff. A lot. 

And I remember the day I stayed in the car for a minute while the boys ran into the house and I thought to myself in that quiet moment. "My stomach hurts from all this worrying. If I could just..." Just what? Just get them safely to middle school? You know that place where all the puberty mixes so well with the sexual experimentation and recreational drugs. Or just get them to high school? Because I'm sure worry will be the last thing on my mind when they're driving home from the football game with all their buddies on Friday night. Or maybe if I could just raise them in a world where there was no dysfunctional families or nuclear threats or natural disasters prompting questions I couldn't answer because I didn't understand them myself. And then it finally dawned.

There is always gonna be something to worry about.

I understand that's not breaking news for anyone else. But it was for me. And incredibly demoralizing news at that. Because I hate worrying! So when all this stuff is going down with my kids and I'm tied in knots and I realize that there's no gettin' off the worry train, what in the world was I supposed to do? I knew the answer but I didn't like it.

Matthew 6:25-26
"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life...Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns (NOR INTERFERE UNNECESSARILY, NOR SPEND HOURS GOOGLING, NOR CRY OVER ENDLESS HYPOTHETICALS), and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?"

There was my answer. In black and white. And from God Himself. His thoughts on the matter?
Stop. Just stop. Stop worrying. Let me take care of you. So I let that sink in and I waited for some great tsunami of relief to overwhelm me in waves. But it didn't happen. And I knew why. It was embarrassing to admit then, and it still is today. It was a secret I had never admitted to anyone. Not even to myself.

I didn't really hate worrying. I actually liked it. 

In fact, I loved it! I spent a lot of time doing it. It was my go-to cope for when the hard stuff came. And maybe the most shocking confession of all. It made me feel better! I understand logically that makes no sense. Worry can't change a diagnosis or fix a marriage or fill up a bank account or (cringe) protect your kids. So why do I do it? Because it makes me feel like at least I'm doing SOMETHING to help. And that lie? It comes straight from the enemy. He'd like us to think that replaying scenarios, and working out endless what-if's, and wearing out our fingers on search engines is what we should do. Is all we CAN do really. But as always, he's feeding us a lie to keep us from the truth. To keep us leaning on our own understanding instead of leaning into God's everlasting arms.

Because here's more of what God has to say on the subject.

"Do not be anxious about anything...but let your requests be made known to God." Phil. 4:6
"Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you..." Psalm 55:22
"Cast all your anxiety on Him for He cares for you..." I Peter 5:7
"I will fear no evil for you are with me..." Psalm 23:4
"When I am afraid, I will trust in you." Psalm 56:3
"The Lord is my Helper, I will not be afraid..." Hebrews 13:5
"When the cares of my heart are many, your consolation cheers my soul." Psalm 94:19

So I'm not even about to say that I've got this thing down. (This morning I spent ten minutes worried the big one would forget to turn in his lunch order and go hungry.) But I'm trying. And when I get it right and refuse to believe the lies of the enemy and turn to my Father instead, He is always there. So here's to trying again. Learning to trust Him with our biggest stuff. Cuz it sure beats worrying. And middle school is comin' for us momma!