Worried

Coffee Talk

Renae Brumbaugh Green

I am a gifted worrier. I’m serious; I’m really good at it. I worry about all kinds of things that most people never think to worry about. I worry that my children will grow up and move far, far away. I worry that my children will grow up and never move out of my house, and I’ll still be cooking and cleaning for them and doing their laundry when I’m 96.

I worry that I’ll live to be 96.

I worry that I’ll never lose that last ten, no twenty pounds. I worry that my current weight will be my skinny weight in ten years. I worry that my son will marry a girl who doesn’t like me, or that my daughter will marry a boy who can’t stand me, and they’ll send me on one of those permanent, all-expense-paid vacations in a hospital that smells like week-old cat litter.

I worry that I won’t have enough money to ever retire. I worry that I’ll have too much money when I retire, and relatives who don’t look like me and who I’ve never met before will volunteer to help me revise my will.

I worry that I’ll go to the beach, and I’ll be asked to enter the world’s most hideous kneecaps contest. And win.

I worry about losing my mother. Or losing my children. Or my husband.

I worry that I’ll die first, and they’ll have to go on without me here to make sure they’re doing it right.

But most of all, I worry that nothing I’ve ever done will make a difference in this world, and that when I die they’ll all say, “Good riddance.” Or worse . . . I’ll die and nobody will notice, and they’ll find me six months later, sitting in front of the television with an empty tub of Bluebell Cookies ‘n Cream. At least, I hope it’ll be empty. If not, that would be a waste.

Truth is, most of those things will probably never happen. Except the kneecap thing . . . that’s a real possibility. In the meantime, the worrying sucks my energy and drains my joy.

I know I’m not supposed to worry about things, but that’s easier said than done. Worry really shows a lack of trust that God’s got my back. He promised He’d supply all my needs. He promised He has good things in store for my life. He promised He’d never leave me or forsake me. He even told me, right in His Word, not to worry about what I’ll wear or what I’ll eat, because He’s already got all that covered. So when I worry, I’m really saying I don’t believe God.

I do believe Him. I believe every one of His promises. But sometimes I’m not sure He and I have the same agenda. I know we’re definitely not on the same time schedule. Instead of worrying, though, I just need to relax and remember that even if His plans for my life take me down a road I don’t want to travel, the destination will be the same. As long as I follow Him, I’ll end up in a good place, because He will always, always be right there with me. And where He is, there’s love and grace and mercy and compassion and goodness . . . and love. What more could I ask for? 

Today, I’ll try not to worry about stuff. I’ll try to just chill out in His presence, and enjoy my life, and trust Him.

But I’m also not planning any trips to the beach, anytime soon.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air: They do not sow or reap or gather into barns — and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his lifespan?” Matthew 6:25-27.

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