I sit on the front porch, relishing the North Carolina green that surrounds me, magnolia trees beginning to show off with blooms up and down, the morning air still crisp from a rain the night before.
The girls are noisy rowdy in front of me, wrestling over sidewalk chalk, lost within a world of superhero princesses, unknowingly writing a story for themselves that sings with creativity and courage and imagination and good.
And I am fully here with them. I have a thing for the everyday ordinary.
If I only have the eyes to see, grace saturates each day and carries us through the good and the hard and the mess and the chaos. I know this.
But still, I find myself going there too: The news reports of yet another crisis, a step ahead to next week’s problems, holding tightly to next year’s worries that might or night not play out. I am here right now with my right-now people, reminding myself to take in the grace because I don’t want to miss this, but I am also there, worrying fearing, fretting.
It happens in the day and it happens in the night. Sometimes in the middle of heart-stoppingly joyful moments, but sometimes too, in complete silence.
Sometimes my anxiety stems from something as simple as the mundane details of life, but it can also paralyze me as I whirl around worst case scenarios, envisioning how I would respond should something happen to me or one of my people.
Small or big- it doesn’t matter, my worry finds a way to lay claim to any situation.
- p.s. It seems this post struck a chord; I would encourage you to go over to (in)courage and read through the comments and see the beautiful way that community is taking care of each other as we carry each other to the feet of Jesus within the hard roads we’re walking. xoxoxo
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