I'm not sure when was the last time I worried. Now, mind you, I have worries. Typically the ones of late have been minute. What will I try to accomplish at work in Reading? What can I delete from the DVR to create space for the next 5 shows that are going to record on Monday? Did I leave the garage door open?
Trivial matters. Inconsequential wastes of time, one might say. I think the last time I actually worried about something that gave me that upset stomach feeling was last year with a parent. There had been some lingering communication issues and there was a meeting to be held later in the week to discuss what would be the next course of action. It made me walk on egg shells in my own classroom. How dare some parent dictate what I say, how I say it, or why I say anything. Accuse me of what? How dare they! And I tried something I hadn't quite learned how to do after becoming a Christian about five years ago--I prayed. And after I prayed, I gave it to God. And he took care of me. Since then, there hasn't been worry.
Not that my life is peaches and cream. There are peripheral happenings that are beyond my control. Cancer seems to be ravaging through the body of a close friend. Terminal. Ironic that a terminal in an airport signifies the destination point or loading station to board a plane, but if a doctor tells you that the unfair sickness invading your body is terminal, your next destination is most likely death. Two of my colleagues are fighting new battles with breast cancer as well.
There is a student at my school who walks as if his ankles have been stricken with polio. They turn in , and his walk is a bastardization of what God created. Sinews twisted and rigored. Bones crumbling under the weight of a seven year old's desire to run and play. He was equipped with a wheelchair today. All smiles this kid, being carted by his brother in the hallway. "I'm popping a wheelie with you next week," I told him. Do I worry about that kid? Yes. But hope runs deep in my mind. One day him, the kids across the hallways that have been dealt some terrible deck (autism, brain disorders) will one day run in the full splendor of God's kingdom. Whether or not we greet one another is probably a humanistic question our minds drift to. Of course we want to see loved ones, we have trained our minds to expect such a sight. But my mind drifts to the kids taken early, the disabled ones, the enabled, the kids who know all about love because that's the only emotion they can probably fathom, all healed, all brokenness, unified. Am I distant with the situation? By no means. But hope wins over worry.
Many of my students have their own lives to contend with. A colleague of mine sarcastically declares to a moody fifth grader, "What you mad at? You don't even pay bills." If monetary stress was anything close to what they are trying to do themselves. Dad in jail, the caring for of younger siblings, the lack of a decent meal that urges them to take extra food from the lunch room, moving to new schools on a whim, drug abuse. This past week, a teacher finds a note in a kid's book bag talking about adult things reserved for Comedy Central of F/X. After some questions, she finds out his dad has them watch movies with "nude people" at night over a bowl of popcorn. Cruz's age? Possibly watching pornography with their kid--with a snack? So do I worry, oh yes, but God has us in the right place. To listen, to inquire, to step in and hear those warning cries. That case of the one girl, locked up in some shed for over ten years. God sent people to that house. God gave plenty of warning signs. We just didn't catch them.
Tonight during Life Group a new couple shared some of their grief and hesitance with "giving it to God." It sounds blasé if it were coming from my heart years ago. Disturbing grief. Painful memories. Forgiveness that is a 4-letter word. The world wants us to dismiss God, blame him for "letting" things happen. The hurts and actions of evil hearts are somehow attributed to the same creator who made something as complex and amazing as a the human body. That's free will. Would it be better to make us all puppets so that no grief would befall anyone, keep everyone safe. Man hurts one another. Man's free will. Man's choices. Do we know why? Do we understand the choices people make? I don't think we are made to know all those answers. I don't have that hurt in my life. I'm blessed.
But I know one day my comfort will be rocked to its core. It could be cancer, it could be a sudden highway death that took my uncle Richard. It could be a stunning act of evil. Do I worry these things will happen? No. Worrying will not give me an extra day. Worrying won't give me more money or opportunity to spend more family time with loved ones. But "Giving it to God" is replacing a heavy burden, that yoke on my shoulders in exchange for His. Hope.
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