He should have died.
A sudden swerve to the right, an over-correct to the left… across the highway, another pull back to the right… and then it flipped. 5 times, landing upside-down, car totaled. I fumbled for my phone, in disbelief that such a thing that happened before my eyes, thankful that I was close enough to town to have cell phone service.
My boyfriend grabbed a light and ran to check on the driver, while I tried to calmly talk to the 9-1-1 Operator. She asked questions, I yelled across the highway to find the answers.
‘I think he’s going to die’…
Upon hearing those words, a lump formed in my chest. Promising the operator that we would leave the driver exactly where he was, I hung up and made my way slowly to the overturned vehicle.
He was young, barely 20. He couldn’t remember much, but I found purpose in asking questions and talking to him to keep him awake. Help arrived, carried him to safety, and the boy miraculously lives on to tell the story. Don’t worry, we’re Facebook friends.
The incident put this irrational fear in my head, though.
It happened over 6 months ago and I dread thinking about traveling long distances early in the morning. If the clock reads somewhere between 3 and 6 a.m. I half convince myself that I should say my final good-byes before I leave.
Perhaps this worry seems justifiable to some of you.
Mostly, I think it’s ridiculous and debilitating.
I think I try to justify worry a lot, actually… and I get quite defensive if anyone tells me that I’m a worrier. But, I’m here to tell you all that I am a worrier. Ugh. The way it sounds is… gross.
I worry about car accidents, about making the wrong choice, about not having enough food for my guests, about summer falling apart, about giving you unsound advice, about having babies or not being able to have babies, about getting married, about messing up my kids, about the future, about the present, about change, about friendship, about…. most things.
Worry is stupid.
Perhaps Oswald Chambers speaks on the subject better than most:
Worrying always results in sin. We tend to think that a little anxiety and worry are simply an indication of how wise we really are, yet it is actually a much better indication of just how wicked we are. Fretting rises from our determination to have our own way. Our Lord never worried and was never anxious, because His purpose was never to accomplish His own plans but to fulfill God’s plans. Fretting is wickedness for a child of God.
BAM!
If that doesn’t make you squirm just a bit…
Especially all you control freaks out there…
We want to have everything go the way we’ve planned, we want to exist in our perfect little world of nothing going wrong… but because we know how reality tends to look, we worry about every worst-case scenario becoming our scenario.
We dwell in worry. Especially us women.
I challenge you to allow yourself to recognize your worry as worry. No more defending it, no more justifying it, no more calling it something that it isn’t (i.e. ‘I’m not worried about it, I’m just a little concerned’). Recognize it, and then confess it. To the Lord, to a friend, to your significant other, to your mentor.
If I claim to believe in a God that is Sovereign and good… why would I ever worry about a thing?
I do believe I miss out on so much freedom because of my constant angst.
Why worry about tomorrow, dear friends?
Why worry about the unknown?
It’s as if we think we could control it all…
I imagine that we’ll continue to get in cars… and maybe we’ll live, and maybe we’ll die… we don’t really get to choose.
It’s risky out there, for sure.
But… if you say you believe in a God who is Sovereign and good? Live like it.
After all… whose plan are you trying to accomplish, anyway?