Originally published Tuesday, 13 March 2012.
It is in my nature to worry.
My mom says my grandma is always finding something to fret about, so I guess somewhere alongside my brown hair and freckles, is a thread of DNA that coaxes all my frantic worrying over things great and small.
I can remember being young—first grade, perhaps—and a thick crust of snow on the ground outside. I sat crouched in front of the television, watching the names of school districts scroll by, waiting for mine to zoom across the screen. And when I finally saw it, I waited until it went by again. I thought, maybe someone might have made a mistake and retract it. What would happen then? I had to wait and be sure.
Even then, when I had seen the name go by time and time again, I was still saddled with worries, half expecting that when I boarded the bus the next day, the driver would ask where I had been the day earlier; that there hadn’t really been a snow day.
So worry and I have had years of companionship together, plenty of time to get to know one another since those early days fretting about snowflakes and school days.
But then, oddly, there are times when I catch myself not worrying, fully aware that they are things that would typically send me into a worrying frenzy. Instead, though, I find myself in a state of peace, a peace that is so very unnatural and comes not from myself.
It’s there—that unlikely ring of peace—that I find myself in, now. As what-ifs and possibilities and big numbers and years signed off in ink swarm around me. It’s a situation where I know, left to myself, I would be filled with anxieties.
But for some reason—for some Reason—I am not.
Right now, my husband and I are in the process of buying a house.
Yes, a house. With multiple zeroes strung to its tail. With a 30-year commitment. With walls to paint and responsibility to spare.
It all came about rather suddenly—which is a story for another day.
For now, though, I stand in awe of where I find myself. This unlikely place of peace, which I know comes only supernaturally, as a sweet gift from God. It’s as if he is whispering to me, “Trust me. It’s going to be okay. There is no need to worry. I’m with you in this—in all of this, in everything and every detail. Trust me.”
And so, I do.
Carmen writes the blog, Life Blessons, which provides an intimate look into her life as a twentysomething woman as she details her experiences learning how to live out her faith, enjoy the simple things in life and be the woman God created to her to be. Along the way, she shares the blessings and lessons that are a part of this journey, the things she likes to call her "blessons."
Feel free to read more at her blog, Life Blessons.
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