This
One Is for All Us Expert Worriers
I’m
a lifelong Sunday School girl, and I grew up singing the old hymn, “Great Is Thy
Faithfulness.“
There’s one
line that lingers in my head these days as the mornings come crashing down on
me, and with them that old, familiar ache of fear, or worry, of not being able
to control the future:
“Morning by morning new mercies I see . . .”
I was
thinking about that line when I woke up today.
Most
mornings when I wake up and stumble to the bathroom to put in my contact lenses
and step on and off the scale and then head to the kitchen to figure out how to
prepare breakfast without using the leaky sink, I’m not thinking about
Christ’s mercies.
I’m thinking
about my to-do list.
I’m thinking
about my worries and how my hair has more gray in it than I remember from last
month. I’m thinking about what we’re going to do if it turns out there isn’t
actually a spot for my daughter in the preschool we’re counting on once fall
rolls around. I’m googling you-tube videos to figure out how to fix the leak
underneath our kitchen sink.
My
mornings don’t involve a list of God’s mercies, they involve a list of my
own worries.
I’m very
good at it.
I’m an
expert at the quiet panic that paces around my insides as the boys rush by
and our little girl tells me she misses her friends.
I
can rattle off all my very specific fears and worries without even having to
think very hard.
There are
all the boxes we still haven’t unpacked after
our move last month. The shed and the kitchen projects I’m not sure
when we’ll get around to tackling. The new school my boys are starting in less
than three weeks and all the school supplies I haven’t bought yet.
There’s the
old white minivan with the flat tires that require pumping every morning — the
same minivan who long ago said goodbye to any hope of air-conditioning. There
are the fish ponds we’re not sure yet how to take care of and the mouse who
must have moved in while we were on vacation because the brand new bathroom mat
I bought has long shreds chewed off it — shreds that now trail up and down
the halls.
I
can sit in the
house of my dreams and miss it all because I’m so busy counting
worries.
And then
that old hymn rolls around in my head and today, instead of obsessing over the
sink, I start to hum the tune I’ve known since childhood. And it reminds me of
the God who has loved me since long before that.
“Great is Thy faithfulness!”
“Great is Thy faithfulness!”
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided –
“Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided –
“Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!
That “All I
have needed” part is what makes me stop. I come to a complete standstill. Right
there in the middle of my kitchen with the slightly slanted floor.
Do I really
believe that?
All I
have needed Thy hand hath provided.
Do I
live like I really believe that?
I look out
the window, and I can hear the cicadas. There’s a lawnmower in the distance and
three very loud kids right here in front of me. And slowly another list starts
to take shape in my mind.
These kids
are my kids, and they’re growing up into the most fascinating tiny
humans. They share their weird and quirky interests with me. They
invite me into their fears, and they trust me with their insecurities. At night
they lie back to back with me just because it makes them feel safe.
Just last
night we built Zoe’s very first
big-girl bed. She’s been sleeping in the same crib her big brother
first used; it’s made the trek with us from South
Africa to Michigan to Virginia and now to Maryland . And last night we moved it out of
her room and I watched her climb into the bed that will rock her to sleep every
night between now and teenagerhood.
I
add that to the list of God’s faithfulness.
Along with
the stories my boys tell of new friends at soccer camp. The neighbors who fed
our fish for two weeks while we were gone. The brand new friend who comes over
to fix my sink (turns out the pipe wasn’t broken, just a washer was loose). So,
“learning basic home maintenance” goes on the list too.
And, of
course, there are the big things like a home and clothes and warm food. But I’m
waking up more to the little things — the ordinary glory of kids’ backpacks and
their excitement at finding their feet in this neighborhood. Walks to the
mailbox holding onto a tiny hand. Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Bike rides. New
markers. Coloring books. Clothes warm out of the dryer.
His
faithfulness is new every morning in a hundred different ways. On the
stormy days as well as the mild ones. It’s the one thing that doesn’t
change.
I so
desperately want to become an expert at believing that.
When I
hum my favorite hymn, it reminds me of the God who has loved me since long
before childhood.
1 comment:
I love that song... It's wonderful how God can use a song from the past to speak His truths into our lives when we're down and doubting. We tend to use the gift of our very next breath to question if He's really got our back... not stopping to consider the gift of life with every morning. "Great is THY faithfulness..." Thanks for this beautiful reminder.
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