Usually, the fears that bother me most are the fears I have no control over. Job. Money. Health. Whatever. I am a control freak, and I have a difficult time turning my life over to anybody, including God. That may sound sacrilegious, but I like being in control (or having the illusion of being in control). I look for peace in all the wrong places in my life. I look for peace in my bank accounts, in my employment, in my writing, in my possessions. I look for peace in the "things" of my life. As a Christian, I know that is a completely wrong-headed approach to my days. However, as the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. Or maybe it's, you can't change a leopard's spots. Or, a zebra looks good in black and white. My point is that I have been operating as a control freak for a majority of my adult life, and I am able to function in that mode quite nicely.
Well, it didn't help me this morning. In the shower, as I was praying and preparing myself for the day ahead of me, I found myself getting more and more anxious. I couldn't shake it off, no matter how hard I tried. I kept getting increasingly worked up. Standing under the shower head, rinsing soap from what little hair I have left, I felt the needle on my control freak gauge pushing into the red zone. I was reaching maximum pressure.
I have no relief valve. I can't blow off a little anxiety and move on with my day. I am sitting at my laptop, still stewing and brewing. I probably need to pray some more. Read my devotions. Find some kind of quiet center. I don't know if I'm going to be able to do that today. It's a strange Monday.
So, my question for Carol dip Monday is pretty simple:
Will I be able to find peace of mind this week?
And the answer from the Inimitable Chuck Dickens is:
The consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but no one seemed to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them! Though I never could have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn't for the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the precious little shoe, I wouldn't have plucked it off, God bless my soul! to save my life...I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest license of a child, and yet been man enough to know its value.
Well, there you have it. A scene of uncontrolled, joyful chaos. Scrooge observing his former fiance interacting with her brood of children.
Some joy is coming Saint Marty's way. Thank the Lord.
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Look out! I'm gonna blow! |
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