Thursday, February 01, 2007

Nah, I Never Used to Worry


Years ago, if you asked me if I was a worrier, I'd have looked straight at you and said, "Nah, I hardly ever worry." I was clueless that worry can be a subtle thing... rather like an underground stream which you don't see, but it's still there.

But the hilarious (?) thing is that this was my typical day back then:

I'd make Tom's lunch for work in the mornings and then worry I'd not put enough food in it.

I'd tell Naomi good-bye and then worry about her walking to school alone.

I'd look at one of our cats, notice that he didn't have that Happy Cat look about him, and worry that he was sick.

If I wasn't dressed and made-up by 9:00, I'd worry that someone would knock at the door and see me looking like a wreck. And if the house wasn't straightened, I'd also worry that someone would come to the door and make that discovery.

I'd heat my breakfast in the microwave and worry about all those deadly rays seeping through the door (because, after all, I could smell the tomato sauce of my leftover spaghetti).

If the sun was shining through the windows, I'd worry that it would fade our couch.

If I'd written a letter to a friend and had not received a timely reply, I'd worry that I wrote something to offend her and now she despised me.

If I paid our bills that day, I'd worry about the low (non-existent?) balance left in our checkbook.

When it came time to make dinner, I'd worry that I'd not be able to think of something delicious to make before Tom arrived home from work.

If Naomi was going out in her car that night, I'd worry that she'd be in an accident or I'd worry about who she was spending time with.


You go worrying like that for a few years and then one day it hits you. You know, the voice inside which says, "This is a horrible way to live! And if you don't stop it, you'll not only someday become sick, but you'll reach the end of your life having spoiled every single day. Is that what you want?"

Well, that's pretty much what I heard, anyway. And on that day, I realized I was tired of worrying. And something strange--it felt almost like I was too tired to worry any longer. As though suddenly I saw all the energy it took to worry, and well, I just wasn't up to it anymore.

(Or something like that.)

And that was the day of new beginnings. The day I finally (took me long enough) began passing over my worries to God so He could worry for me because, after all, I was in my 40's now and I just didn't have the energy I had in my 30's for worrying. Thank-goodness.

And that's what I remind myself now each day... "Debra, you're getting old now. You're just too tired to worry in your old age. So just let it go."

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