My mom and sister had just gone into the store when I got a call from the school, to come quickly, because Callum had just had a seizure. So I motioned to them and then conveyed the short message, urging them to come with me. My sister was alarmed, my mom had all sorts of questions. I figured we’d get the story when we arrived and we’d decide what to do then. Cheri asked why I wasn’t freaking out. I told her if it had been that serious, they would’ve taken him away in an ambulance. I considered the impact of a seizure as we drove. We’re overdue for some kind of upset. Maybe this would be our next family trial. Maybe it would change all sorts of plans. I envisioned him no longer able to drive, grateful I don’t have a job, aware that this could be serious. But why get ahead of myself… we would deal with it as it unfolded. For now all I could do was drive the speed limit and ask mom about the book she’d been reading, which totally annoyed Cheri.
I recognized it for what it was after a few minutes of talking with Callum as he sat in his wheelchair in the school office. This has happened several times before. It’s not a seizure, he just passes out. I knew he’d be fine, it’s super temporary and common. But the nurse advised us to take him in to see a doctor. Against my better judgment. A waste of time and money.
My sister called me out on it later as well. Why wasn’t I more concerned? Why am always so nonchalant? Like when Andrew crashed on his bike and tore his knee apart and I stayed home with the littles while Todd handled it. Or when my dad died and I didn’t burst into tears. Or when our dog ran away and got hit and I (along with Todd) muttered it was her own fault.
She asked us the other day at breakfast how Callum’s grades are. I looked at Todd. We have no idea. We think pretty good. She asked if we ever look at his report card. Of course. But we don’t remember how many were A’s and how many were B’s; that’s his business. And we talk about how what he does now will affect all sorts of opportunities in the future all the time. So why would we meddle with his grades? He’s got it. Same with the rest of the kids. I had no idea Avery was in the highest honors category till I saw it on the graduation program the other day. Kudos to her, love it. I firmly believe whoever owns the worry should carry the load. I refuse to be in charge of their lives and do the worrying for them; they’re totally capable of handling their own stuff.
I told her it’s simply a waste of good energy. My grandma was a self-proclaimed worrier. So was my dad. I don’t know that I ever really thought about it much growing up; but even if I used to be, not so much anymore. Maybe it stems from a class I took back in college that taught me to look ahead at what the worst-case scenario might entail and to work off that. Fail a test, maybe fail a class, might have to re-take it and use an extra semester to graduate. Same when we couldn’t get pregnant. We finally decided we’d join the Peace Corp and I’d learn to be one of those stellar childless women who dedicated herself to her work.
I’ve walked myself through a million possibilities over years instead of fussing or getting overwhelmed. Worrying does absolutely nothing to help any situation. Thinking ahead could though. For instance, we decided forever ago that, no matter what our kids came to us with, we would offer unconditional love and acceptance. For sure. Sexual orientation, religious preference, teen pregnancy, deciding to skip college, whatever. What is there to worry about? Anything could happen. Is it helpful to ruminate over all the things that could change or go different or be unsafe? Not at all.
I guess I just figure we do what we can to prepare for and prevent problems and then move forward. This works with everything from wondering if dinner will flop when we’re having company (I just make bread and make sure we have ice cream; we can always order pizza or grill frozen chicken if the rest burns) to wondering how our kids will turn out (we teach them what we know, use boundaries and natural consequences and love them unabashedly; the rest is up to them). I guess I don’t see what the big deal is. I take the scripture, When ye are prepared, ye shall not fear, seriously. It works for all sorts of things from giving a talk and having a fire escape route and letting your kids travel to accepting a scary medical diagnosis and thinking about dying.
I guess I’ve also asked myself, why spend good time on things I can’t control? There’s precious little within my sphere that I really can. We can save for retirement and plant a garden and store some food. We can pay off our debts. We can adopt healthy habits. We can be smart about our safety. We can refuse to get dramatic or uptight or resentful. We can forgive and let go of a grudge and be kind and accept people as the are. And leave the rest. We simply do what we can and then deal with whatever comes along.
No question I get a little nervous when I see so much money pouring out of our house; sometimes I honestly do wonder how we’re making it and if we’re getting any of it right. I feel a little uneasy as I think of all the future unknowns, from how this new job situation with Todd will work out to wondering if we made the biggest mistake of our lives by buying this house. Yes, of course, I wonder what’s going on behind the scenes with the kids, and sometimes we’re blindsided and heartbroken, as maybe all parents are occasionally. Obviously the world makes me a little nuts and I wonder if I’m strong enough to endure it. And I sometimes feel unsettled about relationships. I just try not to fret and stew is all.
Because I choose to have faith. Over fear. I choose to deal with what’s currently happening. I refuse to get bogged down in all the What Ifs. Too overwhelming. I have enough to think about just with today’s issues. So while I’m like everyone else and give in to thinking about an uncertain future now and then, I have to self-talk myself through these moments and hush the chatter.
And, if it’s not mine to contend with, I allow the owner of the concern to handle it. I can offer assistance to ladies at church I notice who are struggling; I love spending time with them. I can listen to friends and family members as they vent and bounce ideas around with them. I can offer to study with Bronwyn or buy supplies for Callum’s project. I can ask Avery if she’d like a hand getting her graduation announcements out. I can pray for my sister to find a better job and provide respite for another. But ultimately, none of this is mine to carry. Each of us has our unique set of variables. I trust that the people in my life can do their own work.
And so, worrying to me is just negativity, a loss of time and energy, and maybe actually prideful. It’s believing that the people in my life are incapable. That without me, they would flounder and fail. That I’m the one keeping them afloat. It’s believing that I have control where I really have none. That I am more than I am, that I can change circumstances and people. I’ve just decided to do what I can within my realm, to act within my stewardships without taking on someone else’s issues. Then I believe it’s wise to leave it up to Someone else. We forget that God is in the details. And that when we are trying to align our hearts with his, when we are doing what we can, we can rest—worry-free—assured that he will sort things out for the best.
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