One last day of change

I struggle with change. Transitions come with anxiety.

And unfortunately I've passed some of that anxiety on. When I look at my oldest who for the past two days has been trying her best to hold back tears, whose voice pipes up occasionally "Mom I'm taking the dog for a walk." And I know. I know because it's the fifth walk today for the dog.

To be honest the unreasonable fears that she is grappling with - things like the idea that everyone will change over the summer into mean kids who will bully her, are seated right next to the undeniably normal fears like getting lost at a new building and not being able to get your locker open. And no, it hasn't helped that school construction has kept the building locked until the first day. No walk throughs, no way to settle some of the normal fears.

My youngest fears a year without her best friend in her class. My middle is already wondering who she will get as a team for future cities competition, since last year we had a disastrous crash and burn learning experience - both of us mother and daughter (I will never again work on a science project for my kids.)

And me, I am anxious about a new schedule. Care for our classroom has been cut, and that is always a concern, but I worry over safety and sanity with one less aide, one less set of eyes, one less mental check in a room that was demanding before the cuts. For the first time I am glad that my own hours have been reduced, because I don't know if I'd want more time under these circumstances.

Worries are hitting in waves around here.
And I know that after today 80% of them will be alleviated.
Just by simply surviving the day.

It is a human tendency to see those waves as much larger and more powerful than they really are. To forget who holds the oceans in his hands, and controls everything from national policy and the movement of armies to how many strands of grey hair I have covered up with dye. He knows the secret and unseen and the things so big they cannot be hidden.

I'll try to remember that as this morning inches painfully forward, slowly as I say goodbye to one child after another. Three different bus schedules this year. A long drawn out process of goodbye, and there is a small part of me that yearns for a simpler time when we got three backpacks ready to go at once and marched down the sidewalk together.

Now they have started to outgrow my presence at the corner bus stop. And that can bring down a whole new avalanche of worries: Am I preparing them enough? Am I hovering too close, or not close enough. Will they make it down the road, or will life chew them up and spit them out.

Sometimes I wonder if I could sum up motherhood with just one word, what that word would be.

Regret
Sacrifice
Joy
or today's word - Worry

There are a lot of verses on this this, quickly typed, snatched out of context with a search engine, but even with the lack of context there is a common theme: you don't need to worry kid, God has it covered.  He'll give you strength when you ask for it, focus when you come humbly. He'll help set up guards around your thoughts - if you let him. If you let him, he'll give you peace. Tell him your worries, he can help.

It's not like he didn't know about them, so it isn't like you can hide your fear of the waves. But you can focus on him.

No it isn't going to be easy. Peter proved that. The sheer number of verses addressing the topic of anxiety should point to the fact that this is going to be a struggle. And it is OK to struggle. Just know that when you're sinking in the waves that he is still there waiting and willing to pull you out.

So frail, axiety ridden self - you have a self directed sermonette today. Whatchya gonna do with it?



Maybe, because I'm in that place of nostalgia, I'll sing this song to myself today.

Besides, it's always a tension breaker to have a song in your head sung by a Frankenstein celery from Toledo. :)

Are you frightened?

No, not really.

Are you worried?

Not a bit!

I know whatever's gonna happen,

that God can handle it.