Bang, Bang, I Am a Worrier

There was a song recorded by Pat Benatar in the 80's called I Am a Warrior.  I remember jamming to it in my bedroom, my finger guns smoking..."shooting at the walls of heartache, bang, bang, I am a warrior." 

Since we love a good parody, my husband said I should rewrite this song for my concerts.  How about...


I Am a Worrier.


I didn't used to be a worrier.  I've always had an innate confidence in my abilities (except, ironically, that I can never confidently spell the word "confidence."  Is it a c or an s at the end?  Thank you, spellcheck.) 


I grew up pretty fearless, always game to try new things and usually finding a decent amount of success.  Fearless, that is, until I had kids and became a stay-at-home mom and home school teacher. 


A strangling fear creeps in that I am blowing this precious opportunity.


It is the biggest gift God could give me...the freedom to be home with my kids, teaching them, learning alongside them.  In the beginning, I painted a Monet dream of our lives, soft brushstrokes, idyllic scenes, homey and relaxed.  The books I was reading fed into this vision.

 

I think, though, we more often look like a Picasso. 

You could come hang out with us for a week and think we're a quite normal, cheerful group.  This battleground is mostly in my head, where what I imagine doesn't line up with what is. 

"We should do things more like this family" can stick like a burr. 

"I am not enough for this job" can take root like a thistle weed in poor soil.   

The worries branch out to poke my kids and my husband with the subtle, unspoken message that "This is not how I want you to be."  They are most pronounced when I'm laying in bed, not quite asleep or awake,  my mind a fertilizer.

The closer my children get to growing up, the more I worry.  Poor habits I used to dismiss are becoming ingrained in them.  Fruit I'd hoped to see is not there yet.  I'm just not sure how to do all this.

Wisdom says,

We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. -2 Cor. 10:5.

I lean hard into this.  It's all I have, really.  The ability to tear out weeds and plant seeds of truth.  To surrender to His abundant grace and walk the best I can on his weedless path.


To find beauty in the sharp lines and strange angles of this picasso-life.