Dcn Brigid Waszczak

“…do not keep seeking…and do not keep worrying…” (Luke 12:29)

Brothers and Sisters,

Worried sick. Worry wart. Worry over. Worry about.  Don’t worry!

But we do worry. It is human nature to worry. Taken to extremes, worry becomes anxiety when our thoughts are consumed by “what ifs.”

Without having to look at the calendar, some future events loom large in our minds causing us to worry. A friend relayed this story: while he was praying (and worrying) about an upcoming function, he heard God ask, “Why are you jumping into the future? I’m not there. I’m here, with you, right now.”

My friend realized that he was leaping ahead without God along for support. He thought himself as alone, magnifying and catastrophizing, completely forgetting God would be beside him at the function providing grace and support.

Worry is a future fear that pushes us out of the here and now into the “not-yet” up ahead.  Worry disconnects us from our relationship with God.

I am a consummate worrier. A lifetime of worry wrinkles is etched upon my face. For me, worry equates to control. Illogically, I imagine my worry will exert control over a situation. There’s an absurd plan! I resist accepting and surrendering to a future which is never mine to truly control.

Relinquishing worry means laying aside fear of failure, regret, and judgement. Instead, like my friend, I get ahead of myself expecting to handle things independently, forgetting God will be with me, extending grace and help.

Luke tells us God cares for the birds, flowers, and grass in the field, none of which worry. So, he says, “Don’t worry; be happy!” (Cue the music.) God cares for us, too, Luke reminds. Yes. Agreed. But, being only human, I turn my worries over to God and in the next minute, want to be hired back as a consultant! Sigh.

Where are you on the worry scale? Occasional worrier? Worry wart? Anxiety ridden? Have you, like me, deluded yourself into believing worrying provides control?

Ridding ourselves of worry takes practice, as with most behavior and habit changes. I find plenty of opportunities to practice! Maybe I need a practice partner? Or maybe I need to read again Mary Oliver’s poem below.

Blessings,

—Dcn Brigid

“I Worried” by Mary Oliver

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.