This week in the Frazzled Female, the activity that really resonated with me asked us to write down our worries on separate pieces of paper and place them in our “worry box.”  We had to give our worries over to God and commit to not thinking about them for a week.  I used an empty box of Hot Tamales for my worry box and the first worry to go in there was that I wasn’t going to fit in my clothes from eating too much candy.  I wrote probably fifteen other things down, slid them into the box and buried it at the bottom of my sock drawer.

Honestly, I haven’t been completely successful in surrendering my worries to God.  Ask anyone who’s known me for more than twenty minutes and they’ll probably say, “Pam’s a worrier.” I worry that if I don’t stay on top of things with my kids, my house, my manuscript, my hair color, my relationship with my husband, friends, you name it, that IT will fall apart.  I have a problem with the idea of surrender. It sounds lovely.  Peaceful.  Awesome.  But for the life of me, I can’t do it

I was actively worrying when I went to the Bible study this morning. There were five of us there and three of those women belong to the church that I’m attending this month. I had decided in my head that they were going to be mad at me for not finding Sunday’s service at their church to be the greatest thing since air conditioning.  But, I went anyway.  I’m learning that if something makes me uncomfortable, I need to rush towards it.  I learned this inCBT.  I’m notorious for catastrophic thinking and I need to prove to myself that if I go somewhere and hang around people whose views and beliefs are different than my own that I’m not going to burst into flames.

And guess what?  I didn’t.  In fact, I had a really nice conversation with these ladies.  We were supposed to be talking about Ruth, but once again, I monopolized the conversation with questions.

Is God wrathful or loving?

Do you listen to secular music and watch tv?

Where are the modern day miracles?

The take away message from this meeting happened by chance.  One woman had just come back from Europe for her son’s wedding.  She showed pictures and talked about the fact that she didn’t think her new daughter-in-law liked her.  I said it may take time.  As we were talking about learning from bad experiences in our lives, it occurred to me that maybe this was a lesson she needed to be learning in her life.  I’m fairly certain it’s a lesson I need to learn.

How do you love someone when you think they don’t like you? (And you can insert whatever it is about yourself that you think is unlikable in their eyes–political affiliation, sexual orientation, the color of your skin, the size of your thighs, the texture of your hair, the scars on your skin, the scars on your heart, the choices are endless!)

Take it away, John.

Happy Fourth of July!  Be safe.  Please don’t drink and drive and whatever you do, don’t set anyone’s house on fire

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2 Responses to Fireworks

  1. graciewilde says:

    OMG! They look so young! They WERE young! Amazing! And, seriously, is John chewing gum?

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