#spiritualreflection — Public Fediverse posts

Worrywart

I am a worrier.

Somehow I think that worrying gives me a measure of control over uncontrollable situations.

I have this idea that if I constantly imagine the worst-case scenario, then it won’t happen. A prediction of a morbid future somehow keeps it at bay.

That way I won’t be surprised.

It might be true or not, but it doesn’t leave much room for positive thoughts.

Or faith in God.

Worrying is just another side of fear, fear running roughshod over trusting the freedom of choice.

I worry a loved one may hurt herself. It would hurt deeply, but what can my worrying do? Except exacerbate the situation by keeping me from being centered, present, prayerful, and hopeful…

Trust is not the answer to worry. Prayer is.

I cannot begin to count the number of years accumulated from the hundreds of sleepless nights I have spent in fretful worry or rage.

Anger is simply another side of the restless coin. I do not believe that God can handle the situation, conversation, conflict, relationship . . . so I must carry on endless conversations in my head rather than simply releasing everything in prayer.

An old song comes to mind . . .  “bigger than all my problems, bigger than all my fears, God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see.”

Let go and let God. Trite perhaps. But in essence quite correct. My hands have become arthritic talons from holding on to so many regrets, slights, grudges, dreams, hurts, wishes …

It is time once again to release the reins.

September 11, 2014

Worrywart

I am a worrier.

Somehow I think that worrying gives me a measure of control over uncontrollable situations.

I have this idea that if I constantly imagine the worst-case scenario, then it won’t happen. A prediction of a morbid future somehow keeps it at bay.

That way I won’t be surprised.

It might be true or not, but it doesn’t leave much room for positive thoughts.

Or faith in God.

Worrying is just another side of fear, fear running roughshod over trusting the freedom of choice.

I worry a loved one may hurt herself. It would hurt deeply, but what can my worrying do? Except exacerbate the situation by keeping me from being centered, present, prayerful, and hopeful…

Trust is not the answer to worry. Prayer is.

I cannot begin to count the number of years accumulated from the hundreds of sleepless nights I have spent in fretful worry or rage.

Anger is simply another side of the restless coin. I do not believe that God can handle the situation, conversation, conflict, relationship . . . so I must carry on endless conversations in my head rather than simply releasing everything in prayer.

An old song comes to mind . . .  “bigger than all my problems, bigger than all my fears, God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see.”

Let go and let God. Trite perhaps. But in essence quite correct. My hands have become arthritic talons from holding on to so many regrets, slights, grudges, dreams, hurts, wishes …

It is time once again to release the reins.

September 11, 2014

Worrywart

I am a worrier.

Somehow I think that worrying gives me a measure of control over uncontrollable situations.

I have this idea that if I constantly imagine the worst-case scenario, then it won’t happen. A prediction of a morbid future somehow keeps it at bay.

That way I won’t be surprised.

It might be true or not, but it doesn’t leave much room for positive thoughts.

Or faith in God.

Worrying is just another side of fear, fear running roughshod over trusting the freedom of choice.

I worry a loved one may hurt herself. It would hurt deeply, but what can my worrying do? Except exacerbate the situation by keeping me from being centered, present, prayerful, and hopeful…

Trust is not the answer to worry. Prayer is.

I cannot begin to count the number of years accumulated from the hundreds of sleepless nights I have spent in fretful worry or rage.

Anger is simply another side of the restless coin. I do not believe that God can handle the situation, conversation, conflict, relationship . . . so I must carry on endless conversations in my head rather than simply releasing everything in prayer.

An old song comes to mind . . .  “bigger than all my problems, bigger than all my fears, God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see.”

Let go and let God. Trite perhaps. But in essence quite correct. My hands have become arthritic talons from holding on to so many regrets, slights, grudges, dreams, hurts, wishes …

It is time once again to release the reins.

September 11, 2014

Worrywart

I am a worrier.

Somehow I think that worrying gives me a measure of control over uncontrollable situations.

I have this idea that if I constantly imagine the worst-case scenario, then it won’t happen. A prediction of a morbid future somehow keeps it at bay.

That way I won’t be surprised.

It might be true or not, but it doesn’t leave much room for positive thoughts.

Or faith in God.

Worrying is just another side of fear, fear running roughshod over trusting the freedom of choice.

I worry a loved one may hurt herself. It would hurt deeply, but what can my worrying do? Except exacerbate the situation by keeping me from being centered, present, prayerful, and hopeful…

Trust is not the answer to worry. Prayer is.

I cannot begin to count the number of years accumulated from the hundreds of sleepless nights I have spent in fretful worry or rage.

Anger is simply another side of the restless coin. I do not believe that God can handle the situation, conversation, conflict, relationship . . . so I must carry on endless conversations in my head rather than simply releasing everything in prayer.

An old song comes to mind . . .  “bigger than all my problems, bigger than all my fears, God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see.”

Let go and let God. Trite perhaps. But in essence quite correct. My hands have become arthritic talons from holding on to so many regrets, slights, grudges, dreams, hurts, wishes …

It is time once again to release the reins.

September 11, 2014

Worrywart

I am a worrier.

Somehow I think that worrying gives me a measure of control over uncontrollable situations.

I have this idea that if I constantly imagine the worst-case scenario, then it won’t happen. A prediction of a morbid future somehow keeps it at bay.

That way I won’t be surprised.

It might be true or not, but it doesn’t leave much room for positive thoughts.

Or faith in God.

Worrying is just another side of fear, fear running roughshod over trusting the freedom of choice.

I worry a loved one may hurt herself. It would hurt deeply, but what can my worrying do? Except exacerbate the situation by keeping me from being centered, present, prayerful, and hopeful…

Trust is not the answer to worry. Prayer is.

I cannot begin to count the number of years accumulated from the hundreds of sleepless nights I have spent in fretful worry or rage.

Anger is simply another side of the restless coin. I do not believe that God can handle the situation, conversation, conflict, relationship . . . so I must carry on endless conversations in my head rather than simply releasing everything in prayer.

An old song comes to mind . . .  “bigger than all my problems, bigger than all my fears, God is bigger than any mountain that I can or cannot see.”

Let go and let God. Trite perhaps. But in essence quite correct. My hands have become arthritic talons from holding on to so many regrets, slights, grudges, dreams, hurts, wishes …

It is time once again to release the reins.

September 11, 2014

Culdesac

down here on the path 
beside the railroad tracks 
with the freight train 
slowly going by 
the urge to hop on one 
of the gravel laden cars 
and let it take me 
far away from here 
is almost overpowering

as usual i do not 
make the leap and 
later i find myself 
walking past the old man 
with a broom sweeping 
the street to where the path 
turns back upon itself 
out past the little girl 
on her mama's back 
who says hi 

i try to smile in return 
but all i can think about 
is how did i ever get so lost

July 9, 2015

Culdesac

down here on the path 
beside the railroad tracks 
with the freight train 
slowly going by 
the urge to hop on one 
of the gravel laden cars 
and let it take me 
far away from here 
is almost overpowering

as usual i do not 
make the leap and 
later i find myself 
walking past the old man 
with a broom sweeping 
the street to where the path 
turns back upon itself 
out past the little girl 
on her mama's back 
who says hi 

i try to smile in return 
but all i can think about 
is how did i ever get so lost

July 9, 2015

Culdesac

down here on the path 
beside the railroad tracks 
with the freight train 
slowly going by 
the urge to hop on one 
of the gravel laden cars 
and let it take me 
far away from here 
is almost overpowering

as usual i do not 
make the leap and 
later i find myself 
walking past the old man 
with a broom sweeping 
the street to where the path 
turns back upon itself 
out past the little girl 
on her mama's back 
who says hi 

i try to smile in return 
but all i can think about 
is how did i ever get so lost

July 9, 2015

Culdesac

down here on the path 
beside the railroad tracks 
with the freight train 
slowly going by 
the urge to hop on one 
of the gravel laden cars 
and let it take me 
far away from here 
is almost overpowering

as usual i do not 
make the leap and 
later i find myself 
walking past the old man 
with a broom sweeping 
the street to where the path 
turns back upon itself 
out past the little girl 
on her mama's back 
who says hi 

i try to smile in return 
but all i can think about 
is how did i ever get so lost

July 9, 2015

Culdesac

down here on the path 
beside the railroad tracks 
with the freight train 
slowly going by 
the urge to hop on one 
of the gravel laden cars 
and let it take me 
far away from here 
is almost overpowering

as usual i do not 
make the leap and 
later i find myself 
walking past the old man 
with a broom sweeping 
the street to where the path 
turns back upon itself 
out past the little girl 
on her mama's back 
who says hi 

i try to smile in return 
but all i can think about 
is how did i ever get so lost

July 9, 2015