I could be on the Olympic Worrying Team.
Actually, I think I would be the captain of it.
Since I was young, I have been haunted by the bad things that could happen in a given situation. I was the little girl who always got her ice cream cone turned upside down in a bowl, (or skipped the cone all together,) so there was no chance of an accident happening and me feeling sad. (I tried really hard to get Dr. Sissy to do the same, so she wouldn’t end up being sad either. I worry for others too, not just myself – have to spread the talent around, you know.)
Heaven knows that this whole “unbelievable gift from God,” “Miracle of life in my care” thing has ratcheted my worry up to levels that even I never knew could exist within me. And it’s not just the big things I worry about either. Oh no – it isn’t just your average every-mom pregnancy concerns, the worry strikes at seemingly innocent targets. I am wearing high heels for the first time in MONTHS today, (because I have been so concerned about something happening,) and every time I get up to walk around, I catch myself picturing how awful it would be if I fell, and how scared and terrible I would feel. Every time I step in the shower, I have flashes of me slipping and laying there hating myself for having taken the chance at all.
It isn’t like I think all of this is normal. Getting used to the eyerolls from friends and family is one thing, but what really eats away at me about it, is how very un Christian the whole way of thinking is.
After all, Philippians 4:6 instructs us: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”
Prior to my pregnancy, I had been working on doing just that. Trusting that God’s plan was at work, that worry was fruitless, and prayer and acceptance were the answers. But beyond the first sight of that second faint little pink line all of that kind of slipped right out the window.
I know some of it is heightened because I am actually treated medically with everyday medication for an anxiety disorder that has been severe at times in the past, and that medication went on vacation along with my M.S. injections when we decided I would try and carry a baby. It isn’t permanent, and I haven’t been struggling with any kind of overwhelming or crippling anxiety, but it may contribute to the elevated unreasonable worrying.
It doesn’t change the truth of my behavior anyway. I know where my peace will be found.
In Matthew 11:28, Jesus told his followers to “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
It isn’t like my reasons for worry will lessen over time. Raising a child takes a great deal of faith – and to me faith has always been like a muscle, it needs to be trained and exercised – through prayer and study of God’s word – to allow it to grow stronger.
I will be mindful over the coming days, careful to heed God’s instructions, and I will call upon the Spirit of Power that each of us is given to truly live in my faith that God will provide and bring peace.