On Anxiety

     Anxiety is driven by fear.  And once we become anxious, we turn into control-freaks.  We try to control the situation or the other person, or if we can't do that, we try to control other people outside the situation.  (I just read a book about this by Karen Ehman called Let.It.Go., and it was spot-on for me.)
     The Bible says 'perfect love drives out fear' (1John 4:18).  So the answer is to love and live in Christ.  We cast our cares upon God.  We choose to trust, not to dictate the lives of those around us.  We remember 'It's not about me,' it's about God and his glory.  Isaiah 43:7 and Romans 11:36 state that we are made for God's glory - ultimately, that is our purpose.  So our fear/anxiety is only a tiny part of the picture; we have to look outside ourselves: 'It's not about me.'
     But sometimes the anxiety is overwhelming, so overwhelming that I can't think straight, my mind becomes cloudy, and all I can get out is 'It's not about me.'  There are times I'm lucky to get that far.  I often cannot get to the 'it's about God's glory' part, so all I can say is 'It's not about me' or 'Blessed be the name of the Lord' or 'Bless the Lord, o my soul' (Philippians 4:6 - 'with thanksgiving').
     The latter of those three phrases are song lyrics.  Music is oftentimes my lifeline (other times it's a Bible verse or a quote that holds Biblical truth).  The song isn't always a Christian song; sometimes it's a song in which I find truth - Biblical truth.  'God gives us hope/But we still fear/What we don't know/The mind is poison.'  That's from a song by The Killers.  Another Killers lyric that often plays in my head is 'There are twisted days that I take comfort/Cause I'm not the only one/No I'm not the only one.' (I'm part of a women's Bible study group; if this lyric weren't true, why would we enjoy each other's company so much each Thursday night?)
     Hebrews 13:3 (NIV): 'Consider him [Jesus] who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.'  The only problem with trying to find comfort in the fact that Jesus too faced much anxiety (I've never been so anxious I was sweating blood), is that Jesus is perfect; I could never be like him.  But I take comfort in the fact that there is Sarah (or Sarai as she was known at the time in Genesis 16) and Gideon (Judges 6 & 7), Elijah (1 Kings 19:1-18) and the disciples (Matthew 8:23-27, 14:13-21, 15:32-37 and 16:5-10) who like me were overwhelmed or fearful or just stupid, yet God was with them, God used them and God loved them just the same.  That is God's grace.

     'Bless the Lord, O my soul.'

     'It's not about me.'

     'Hungry I come to you for I know you satisfy.'

     'I can't control this.'

     'You're big; I'm little; my head only comes to your middle.  With God's help little guys can do big things  too.'  (That's right, I sometimes bring Veggie Tales into battle.)

     'Jesus, save me.' (Matthew 14:25-31)

      I've fought fear and anxiety for half my life.  I find myself having to repeat mantras (for lack of a better term) sometimes just to keep my head above water.  'It's not about me' and 'Shut up, Satan' have been big on the list lately.  And remembering this: 

'For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear, I will help you."' (Isaiah 41:13 NIV).

And then there's grace...

"So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot shaping as seemed best to him." -- Jeremiah 18:3-4

We are none of us good but that is why there is grace.  I hold a cynical view of this world, but there is always grace.

In case someone out there has an answer...

Something that started circling in my head on my walk today.

 “Pilgrims of the Great Divorce” – a line from Caedmons Call’s “High Countries”

I know what it’s like to be a child of divorce.  The uneasiness that accompanies.

I’ve been ruminating the idea of how we live in a dis-eased world and need healing – a salve – salvation.

 

Perhaps this all means something or I’m supposed to do something with it.

Unfortunately, I’ve no idea yet what that something is.

A Prayer

"Father GOD,
     I am thankful you are good and you are big and you are love.  And I'm so thankful to be able to spend this time with you in your presence.
     I've confessed it before [but] the habit has not left me -- forgive me for not being content.  Forgive me for indulging in fantasies and ideas like they are better than where I'm at.

"But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night." -- Psalm 1:2
"The One enthroned in heaven laughs; the LORD scoffs at them." -- Psalm 2:4

     Help me to think on your words throughout the day.  Help me to practice your presence.  You are victorious.
     I know it's not true, but sometimes it seems my life is so dull and disastrously boring.  Like the adventure has yet to begin.  But the truth is, I'm living the adventure now.
     I'm afraid that I will never love you half as well as I'd like to.  I so often feel like the 12 apostles -- I just don't get it. 
     And I'm so vain.
     May my life be for your glory.  In Jesus' name I pray, amen."

Sacrifices and Blessings

   As it is Ash Wednesday (which I only knew because of the Facebook posts I saw), I have been thinking what I would like to sacrifice for Lent -- keeping in mind that it isn't just about giving something up, but replacing it with Something better (the S is capital for a reason).  I don't like giving up something I can easily go back to after the Lent season is over.  That practice seems to miss the point.  If it were just giving up something for 40 days, I'd not drink tea.  (I do love my tea.)  Although, maybe I will give up my oral coping mechanisms and instead of drinking tea or eating chocolate whenever life is wrought with anxiety, I will turn to God's Word instead.
    Anyways, I'm having a hard time concentrating on what to sacrifice for Lent.  Life has been pretty anxiety-ridden for me as of late -- for my family and myself personally.  It seems more like a "count my blessings" time of life than a fasting time of life -- though, I suppose they are one in the same.
     Counting my blessings, I think of my family.  I really do have a great family -- immediate and extended.  We look out for each other and support one another.  I am physically far away from most of my family at the moment, but they are always close to me as they are often on my mind.  I am thankful I can count them as some of my blessings.
   
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXKxazgio2s  (I don't know if I linked the web address to the video correctly.  If not, copy and paste.)

Louie (Part 5 - the last)

“Oh, I see.  Hello there.  You decided this would be a good place to park your old car?  Thought a spider would fit in around here?”  Louie was embarrassed.  He hadn’t meant to impose.  He only wanted to rest a bit.

Louie turned around and began making his way back to the steering wheel.

“Well,” came the deep growl, “I suppose a spider and an old toy car wouldn’t look too out of place here.”  Louie stopped.  “Yeah, you can stay.  Why not?”

Mr. Copperpot sat in the chair.  Louie climbed to his web and nestled in.  Mr. Copperpot sat for a long time staring at the horizon.  Only once did he speak saying: “Wait till the sun rises.  You won’t think this place looks so bad when the sun rises.”  Louie fell asleep.

*               *          *

A door shut softly.  Feet padded on the sidewalk.  A heavy weight sank into the rusting chair.  A deep growl, almost a purr, was heard.  Louie could smell the morning, but knew it was not quite dawn.  He opened his eyes.  The old shed and the overgrown grass had not changed much in the night, even covered in morning dew.  Then something happened.

Louie looked out to the horizon and saw something amazing.  Dawn came.  Louie was astounded.  The only sound was Mr. Copperpot’s slow breathing.

Mr. Copperpot sat and sat staring at the horizon until the sun had stretched her fingers completely.  He then went inside.

Louie had moved from his web to the back of the seat.  As he watched the morning begin, he knew he would be quite happy with his new home.

 

The end.

Louie (Part 4)

Where would be a lovely spot for my home? Louie wondered.

Louie wasn’t paying attention to the road in front of him, and when he looked forward again, he had to swerve to miss a blue minivan.  The van honked at him.  “Well, I never,” said Louie.  He then came to a screeching halt behind a grey car at a red sign.  The grey car had a light ticking on and off.  After a moment, the grey car turned right toward the busy highway.  The road to the left was empty of other cars, so the spider decided he would turn left.

Now, there’s something I’m forgetting to do thought Louie.  He then remembered the light on the right side of the grey car blinking.  “Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick,” said Louie mimicking the sound of a turn signal.  He then made his left turn down the quiet street.

Louie drove and drove.  He passed but one car along the way.  Some of the houses had people sitting on the porch.  A few watched Louie’s car pass by and scratched their heads confounded[SB1] .  Others paid no attention whatsoever to the red car with yellow hood.  Soon Louie came to the end of the street.  He gradually came to a halt.  Looking up, Louie saw a big, dark house.  It had a porch with stairs leading up to it.  The grass was a little overgrown.  The mailbox at the end of the drive read “Copperpot”.

“Copperpot.  Copperpot,” Louie said to himself.  The name sounded familiar.  The People that lived at his former house spoke of a Mr. Copperpot.  It wasn’t well-known what he did, for the few times he was home, he kept mostly to himself.  “Some say he’s gone to Africa,” the Lady would say.  “No,” the man would say.  “That’s nonsense.  He goes to visit a sick relative.”

Louie cautiously pulled into the driveway of the gloomy house before him.  There was a breeze grabbing the front screen door blowing it open and creaking[SB2]  it shut as if the breeze was bored.  Some mice rooted in a hole along the side of the great house.  Behind the house was a shed well past usefulness.  Beneath an awning sat a chair.  Louie drove the little red car with yellow hood beside the chair and stopped.

It was getting dark, and Louie was tired from his day’s trip.  He began to make his way back to his compartment.  Louie climbed along the dashboard and sluggishly crawled along the door, but hadn’t made it halfway when he heard: [SB3] 

“What’s this?”  A slow, haggard[SB4]  voice spoke into the night.  Louie pulled back in fear.  The old man who stood beside the little red car must be Mr. Copperpot.  From where he was, Louie couldn’t see much of the man other than his belly covered in a white shirt and the top of his brown trousers held up by suspenders.

Mr. Copperpot walked around the little red car with yellow hood.  “How did this get here,” wondered the old man aloud.

Louie could see Mr. Copperpot at the back of the red car.  The old man bent over.  A worn face with a small scar by the left eye showed through the window.  [SB5]   Mr. Copperpot examined Louie’s beautiful web.  Still bent over, he made his way to the side where Louie sat on the door, not daring to move.

---

 [SB1]Age-appropriate?

 [SB2]Not technically a verb.  What other word could I use here?

 [SB3]Does this break work?

 [SB4]Age-appropriate?

 [SB5]Too long and complicated a sentence for kids?