Handling Daily Worries

My parents were perfectionists.  The house was always perfect.  Everything

in it's place all of the time.  In the morning, my Mama never hung around

in her bathrobe.  She would get up, make the bed and get dressed for the

day.  She fussed over her outfit and her hair.  She wore minimal make-up,

but she always looked polished and ready to face anything.  Daddy was

the same.  They also had perfect penmanship.  Every letter flawlessly

created to reflect their orderly lives.  They were also worriers, especially

my Mama.

I wonder if worrying is a genetic trait.  If it is, I have inherited the

tendency.  It's taken me a long time to realize that the things I 

have worried about over the years have never become a reality.

I have often heard the phrase let go and let God.  Knowing this to

be the wise choice, why have I often resisted to the temptation to

try to handle things without His help?  I start to believe that I

have some power on my own, when in reality I am barely a 

blip on the radar in this vast universe.  

Life becomes so much more peaceful when I hand over the reins.

I have to remind myself of this every single day.   

Years ago, while in college, I had a math professor that drew a 

square on the blackboard.  She asked us to imagine that this square

was a patch of grass and that each of us were walking from one 

corner to the other in a diagonal and creating a path.  The grass

under our feet would wear away, and the way to the corner became

ingrained in our minds.  That's what happened when math problems

were repeated.  Over time, we would automatically know the formulas

to solve any problem.

Each day I begin my own journey, from one corner to the other, not

solving math problems, but reminding myself that I must have faith

and not worry.  Hopefully one day the pathway will be so clear that

I won't even have to think about it.  It will be etched in my soul.

Big Texas Hugs,

Susan and Bentley