credit: Michelle Meiklejohn
I'm not a worrier about most things. Life has taught me that usually things turn out better than I expected. And even when things aren't so good I, with God's help, can get through it.
But when it comes to my children, whether biological, adopted, or foster, the worry eats at me.
What if the MRIs and ultrasounds show something abnormal? What if the medications cause more harm than good? Am I making the right decision to allow my child to be taking this particular medication? What if those who are in charge of another child's education don't care and hurt more than they help? How do I make it better here at home? Am I listening and empathizing enough or am too distracted? Am I pushing too much or not enough?
The questions go on and on and I toss and turn.
And then I feel a gentle tap on my mental shoulder.
"I made these children" He reminds me. "You love them so much, but I love them even more than you will ever be able to."
So I take these problems to Him. I give them to Him to take care of. I take a break from worrying. For a whole ten minutes. And then I take them back. And the cycle starts over again.
But I'm slowly learning and the ten minutes are turning into fifteen, and twenty, and sometimes I even make it a whole hour.
I need to be concerned for my children, but that concern should lead me to prayer instead of worry. Then, with His guidance, I simply need to take the steps before me, trusting His leading and knowing that His love surrounds us every step of the way.
So day by day, faltering step by faltering step, I am taking this journey to developing a habit of prayer. Not simply praying before meals, and when I go to bed and in church, but hour by hour, minute by minute, living in prayer, surrounded by a love much greater than I can ever imagine.
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