Post by Contributing Writer Amy
You’ve always been with me and quite frankly, I’m just plain tired of having you around. As a little girl, you helped me worry about everything. I was so anxious about having a babysitter, my parents rarely went out. You kept me awake many nights waiting to hear the sound of the back door squeaking open under my second story bedroom because I couldn’t sleep until both parents were safely home. You were always there to help me worry about something happening to my parents.
Now that I’m grown, my fear of being an orphan lives on in the fear of my children being orphans. You love when people say “Life can change in an instant.” While it is supposed to serve as a reminder to not take anything for granted, it terrifies me. You want me to always be terrified of losing what I love most. I’ve held my breath when the phone rings, wincing, wondering if this is it. Is this the one that changes everything? Is this where the fairytale ends? I’ve woken from bad dreams in the middle of the night and worked so hard to convince myself it really was just a dream. You tell me I better not complain about ordinary problems because they’ll seem so small once the really terrible thing happens to my family or myself.
As a little girl, I never knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I always knew I wanted to be a mom. I had twin baby dolls and used to even daydream that I was a twin. I worried I’d never meet the right guy and I would never have a child, especially a daughter. Now, I have a loving husband, twin daughters and a baby girl. I have a supportive extended family and more love in my life than I ever dared to hope for. Yet, you are there to constantly whisper, “It can’t always be this good.” The more blessings I have, the more I have to lose.
If I always feel threatened, I can’t feel blessed.
You know what? Maybe you are wrong. Maybe you are robbing me of the joy of today AND the joy of tomorrow because they are both good. Maybe my life won’t change in an instant. Maybe it has its mountains and valleys, but all the horrible cliffs you keep telling me I’m going to fall off at any given moment just aren’t there.
Maybe I’m done with you. I know I don’t deserve this life, but that’s the beauty of it. It is a gift I do not and cannot deserve. It was a gift of grace from God who is so much bigger than you. He is on the other side of every single one of my “What ifs?”.
There is no “What if?” I can ask where the answer would be that my Father would abandon me.
And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow–not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. Romans 8:38
I will never, ever be an orphan. Nor will my children, because we will always have a Father.
Anxiety, you’ve been around long enough. You and I are done. My brother once told me that when you don’t want to be afraid, be angry because it’s hard to be both. So guess what, Anxiety? You’ve really been ticking me off. How dare you to think you can keep coming into my life and stealing joy? How dare you distract me from loving and laughing with my family? Who do you think you are to whisper threats to my soul?
I’m no longer the little girl who listened to your threats. I’m a mama now, and you don’t mess with mamas.
You have nothing but empty threats and lies. What I have once you are gone is so much greater. I have peace that passes all understanding. I have great love to give and a life to live with joy. I have a Father in heaven whose love is so much stronger than any terrible thing you can dream up for me to worry about.
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? Psalm 27:1
Of whom shall I be afraid? Not you, Anxiety. Not even you.
Amy is a former reading and third grade teacher as well as a mother to three little girls with big personalities. She believes joy can always be found in playing, learning, and ice cream.