When Fear Doesn't Get The Last Word

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Friday morning I caught myself heading down the "what if" road again.

I was looking at our new health insurance premiums and wondering how we were going to make it work. Before long, my mind was racing ahead, trying to solve problems that hadn't even happened yet.

Then, almost out of nowhere, another thought interrupted the turmoil.

Jesus will take care of this. He always does. Stop worrying.

Where did that thought come from? 

Nothing about our situation had changed.

But something inside me had.

Ten years ago, I don't think that would have been my response. 

Looking back, I don't think my prayers changed overnight.

They began to change during COVID.

COVID didn't just shut down the world. It shrank ours.

Because of Lily's compromised immune system and the reports about how much higher the risk was for people with Down syndrome, we lived with a level of fear I'd never experienced before.

We disinfected everything that came into our house. Groceries. Packages. Anything anyone touched.

We stopped eating out. We avoided people whenever we could.

When Matt got COVID after a sick visit for our dog at the vet, and I came down with it a few days later, we wore masks inside our own home and tried to keep our distance from our kids. I remember holding my breath every time I had to get close to one of them.

I can still feel the weight of those days. 

I was isolated, overwhelmed and carrying more than I knew how to carry. 

I used to spend so much energy trying to control everything I couldn't control.

I recently reread an unfinished blog post I wrote nearly ten years ago. All I heard in those words was stress, grief, and fear. I was trying to hold together a life that felt like it was coming apart. I wanted answers. I wanted control. Mostly, I just wanted God to fix everything.

I think that's why I became such a sponge.

I needed something stronger than the fear that seemed to surround us every day.

So every afternoon at three, I stopped what I was doing and prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet streamed live from the National Shrine of Divine Mercy.

Then I started watching daily Mass.

I listened to priests explain the faith in ways I'd never heard before.

I prayed along with Hallow.

I listened to the Bible in a Year podcast.

I watched The Chosen

I picked up my rosary every day.

I couldn't get enough.

Somewhere along the way, my heart began to change.

I've realized that the more I keep Jesus on my mind, 

the more I notice

He was never absent 

in the first place.

The circumstances didn't change overnight. But God was changing me.

And because of that, my prayers began to change too.

They became less like formal prayers and more like conversations I found myself having throughout the day.

Jesus, I trust in You.

Come, Holy Spirit.

Mary, please be a mother to me now.

Help me think like Jesus.

Help me love like Jesus.

Help me forgive like Jesus.

I've even started praying the Litany of Humility. It's a hard prayer to pray... but maybe that's exactly why I need it. Trust and humility seem to grow together. The more I remember that God is in control, the less I feel like I have to be. 

Please don't read this and think I've mastered trust.

I haven't.

I still worry. I still have moments when my mind races ahead to all the "what ifs." I still try to take back control more often than I'd like to admit. 

But I'm learning to recognize those moments sooner.

And little by little, I'm learning where to turn when they come. 

As I write this, I'm getting ready to board a plane. Flying has always been one of my biggest fears. I'll still take a Xanax before I fly, and last night I sent a text to a group of women from church asking them to pray for us. I truly believe in the power of prayer, and there's something deeply comforting about knowing I don't have to carry my fears alone.

I still have a long way to go.

But I'm grateful that God is patient.

He's still forming me.

One day at a time.

One "Jesus, I trust in You" at a time.

The insurance premiums are still there.

The questions haven't all been answered.

Tomorrow I may find myself heading down the "what if" road again.

But now I know where to turn first.

Maybe this is what growing in faith looks like.

Not having fewer problems.

Not never worrying.

But learning to let Jesus have the first word... and the last. 

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