Last week, when the cancellations started snowballing, the grocery aisles started emptying and the emails about how all the banks, libraries and churches are responding to Covid-19 started multiplying, I started thinking about what I might share here today.
It’s impossible to ignore the situation, and yet, what is there to say about it that hasn’t already been said a thousand different ways?
Not too long ago, on an anxious-feeling Monday morning, I scratched out a little message about hope and the fear of the unknown.
I wrote it in the second person, but if you happened to read it when I posted it here the next day, you probably guessed that I wasn’t just writing to “you”—I was also writing to myself.
The previous week, I had been stressing about a mammogram I hadn’t even had yet. I had skipped this annual test the previous year for a variety of reasons, and I continued to put it off even after life settled down some.
In January, I had a sinus infection that caused a lot of coughing, which led to some worrisome (at least to me) aches in my chest. As it was getting close to the time of year when I usually have a mammogram anyway, I finally decided to go ahead and get it done so I could set my mind at ease about those pesky aches.
Even before the appointment, the what-ifs started assailing me. It wasn’t just, “What if they find something?” It was, “What if they find something now that they would have found last year if I had only had the test when I was supposed to have had it?”
(Please tell me I’m not the only one who does this.)
I’ve had to go back for follow-up ultrasounds a few times in the past, and everything has always been OK. There are no guarantees, of course, but the logical and reasonable response would have been to take one thing at a time.
I was having difficulty with that, though—almost to the point of ridiculousness.
I know the Bible verse by heart—the one about being anxious for nothing. Nothing! That pretty much covers everything, doesn’t it?
I’ve struggled mightily with worry in the past, but life experiences and the mysterious workings of the Holy Spirit have broken many of those chains. Not all of them, though.
I had the mammogram on a Friday, wrote the aforementioned blog post the following Monday, and got the “all-clear” letter from the imaging center a few days later.
All that worrying for nothing, right?
A friend later suggested that my battle with the fear of the unknown may have been connected to grief—turns out, her own anxiety was exacerbated and life just felt more unsettled when she was going through the grieving process.
It made sense and was even somewhat of a relief. Being aware of this connection might not eliminate future anxiety, but at least I can be on the lookout and perhaps recognize that this is what’s going on next time I’m overly anxious about something.
Not all fear of the unknown is rooted in grief, of course. These days, uncertainty swirls around us like a funnel cloud, threatening to pull us under with the most recent headlines about the coronavirus, the upcoming presidential election or the latest natural disaster.
Closer to home, perhaps the unsettling unknowns have to do with a child heading to college for the first time, aging parents with declining health, where our careers are going or how a serious illness is going to play out for us.
It’s enough to keep even the most stalwart believer up at night, worrying about all the what-ifs.
Philippians 4:6-7 assures us that when we come to our heavenly Father with our concerns—turning everything over to Him through “prayer and supplication”—the “peace of God that that surpasses all understanding will guard [our] hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
This kind of peace is for real. I’ve experienced it; you probably have too.
But God also “knows how we are formed and remembers that we are dust.” (Psalm 103:14) As finite human beings, sometimes we get anxious. And sometimes that anxiety is compounded because we can’t stop feeling anxious.
I don’t have any permanent solutions for this problem. But I can share a daytime promise and a nighttime prayer that might help, at least during the next 24 hours.
When the fear of the unknown assails you during the day, mediate on the powerful truths spelled out in a verse that has been stuck on my refrigerator door for as long as I can remember.
“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” (Deuteronomy 31:8)
And when your worries wake or keep you up at night, offer up a plea that author Jan Karon (of Mitford fame) calls the “prayer that never fails.”
“Thy will be done.”
Hang in there, friends. God is with us, and we can find rest in Him.
♥ Lois
The 'peace of God that that surpasses all understanding' is for real. Share on X Hang in there, friends. God is with us, and we can find rest in Him. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
Several months ago, the treadmill I had used for more than 18 years gave out on me.
This trusty (and somewhat rusty) machine with zero bells and whistles—the same one that moved with us four times across two states and into who knows how many different rooms of all our houses—didn’t simply fail to start one morning.
It stopped abruptly. When I was running.
Somehow, I managed to stay upright. That alone was a workout miracle—who knows the damage I would have sustained had I fallen off.
We suspected the treadmill was nearing the end of its life, so Randy had already begun researching replacements. He gave me a list of options, and I went to the sporting goods store and ordered one of them.
It was considerably more expensive than the used one we bought at Play It Again Sports in Fayetteville, Ark., all those years ago. If this one lasts another 18 years, though, the cost spread out over all those months would still be less than a gym membership. Plus, I figure the benefits running provides to my mental health far outweigh the one-time expense.
Not surprisingly, as I think about what I’ve learned this winter, a few treadmill-related lessons are at the top of the list.
• Running uphill on a treadmill is hard. My old machine had a manual incline, so I never used it. One of my fitness goals (and I use that term very loosely) is to get stronger, and I’m hoping running on a slant will help with that. Of course, the way I feel when I push the button to raise it ever so slightly, you’d think I had it set at a 65-degree angle. (If you have any tips about the best way to use the incline feature to improve strength, please share them in the comments.)
• I can read a book without reading the ending first. If you’ve been with me for a while, you may recall that I read books on the treadmill, AND that I always read the end of said books first. I had a stand for actual books on my old treadmill, but right now, all I have is a place for a tablet, so I’ve been reading e-books from the library. Since there are no pages to flip, I’ve stopped looking ahead to see what’s coming. It’s not my favorite way to read, but it’ll do.
• I also can get by without wearing a watch. While others in my house mostly rely on their phones to tell time, I’ve worn a watch since I was a kid and never wanted to go without one. Last fall, though, my watch stopped and the face broke when we were replacing the battery. Weeks went by before I stopped checking my wrist to see what time it was, but I eventually got used to it. (I’m also thoroughly enjoying the new watch Randy got me for Valentine’s Day, by the way.)
• It’s OK to abandon unfinished projects. When I read this bit of decluttering wisdom in Gretchen Rubin’s book, Inner Order, Outer Calm, I immediately thought of the foot-tall stack of old cooking magazines that had been taking up space on my fireplace hearth for weeks. I’d started going through them and tearing out recipes I might want to try someday, but lately, just looking at the stack was making me tired and even a bit anxious. They’re gone now, and I don’t miss them one bit.
• Gardening grace is a thing, at least it is for me. Peonies are precious, especially when they come from the yard of a loved one. But it’s OK to throw away peony shoots that sat in your garage so long last fall they completely dried out. (Your sister will be happy to give you more sometime, I’m sure of it.)
• Jan Karon started writing the Mitford series when she was 50. This detail—which the 80-something, bestselling author shares in the introduction to her lovely book, Bathed in Prayer: Father Tim’s Prayers, Sermons, and Reflections from the Mitford Series—just might be the most inspiring thing I’ve read in a long time. Especially as this same milestone birthday looms large in my own future.
Now it’s your turn. What have you learned this winter about exercise, writing, grace, decluttering or something completely unrelated to any of these?
♥ Lois
According to @gretchenrubin, it’s OK to abandon unfinished projects. Share on X Did you know that Jan Karon started writing the #Mitfordseries when she was 50? Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Emily Freeman, Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
This isn’t a parenting blog, but as my senior daughter hurdles toward the high-school finish line, I can’t help but reflect a bit on the journey we’ve been on for the last 13 years. Today I share a simple realization that has helped me tremendously; perhaps it will encourage you too.
When my daughter Lilly was in kindergarten, she was one of 13 students—three girls and 10 boys—in her class. At the end of the year, the principal told us the teacher would be switching to first grade, and that the children in her class could “loop” with her rather than be placed with one of the other first-grade instructors.
There are days when the prospect of what might be looms larger than what actually is.
Days when you wish you could hit the fast forward button on your life and jump ahead just enough to see what’s coming (or what’s not coming, as the case may be).
Maybe what you’re dreading isn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of life, or perhaps it’s truly monumental. Maybe your reaction is kinda illogical, or perhaps it’s totally understandable, given your current circumstances.
Either way, you find yourself in the bathroom, head in your hands, asking God to lift the blues or give you a glimpse of—well, anything, really.
You know about the birds of the sky and the lilies of the field—that God feeds and clothes them, and yet provides for you so much more. In fact, you can probably quote from memory the grand conclusion of this section of scripture: “Therefore, don’t worry about tomorrow because tomorrow will worry about itself.” (Matthew 6:34)
You know these things—you really do believe them—but the fear of the unknown still throws you off. You keep thinking about what C.S. Lewis once wrote, that “we are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”
This resonates loudly even though, among the four people in your household, you are the one most likely to be voted an optimist. The one who always tries to get the others to look at the bright side, to find the silver lining, to look for the good in the bad.
Honestly, you’ve seen it go either way—when God’s best is really wonderful, and when His best (at least the way it affects you) is just plain hard. Chances are, what you are fretting about today is neither—a mere blip, most likely—but it still looms large in your mind.
And somehow, the enemy of your soul is aware of this and seems to be exploiting it a bit right now.
But then, almost out of nowhere, a thought pokes its way through the heavy fog in your head.
“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope.” (Lamentations 3:21)
Ah, there it is—straight from the pages of scripture—the breath of fresh air you’ve been longing for.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”
The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. (Lamentations 3:22-26)
Maybe waiting’s not your strong suit. (It’s certainly not mine.)
And yet, these familiar words are powerful. They’re healing, hope-filled.
They remind us both that God’s love protects us, that He is faithful and good, and that His salvation will come when the time is right.
♥ Lois
There it is—straight from the pages of scripture—the breath of fresh air you’ve been longing for. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
I had breakfast with a good friend a couple of months ago. She’s my favorite kind of friend—one with whom you can jump right into talking about anything, no matter how long it’s been.
We were discussing the emotional ups and downs that seem to be even more prevalent as our teenager daughters make their way through their final year of high school.
They have so much converging on their minds, bodies and hearts—homework stress, pressure to choose the right college, relationship struggles, thoughts about graduation, senioritis, lack of sleep and a million unknowns about the future.
Add in normal adolescent hormonal fluctuations, and it’s no wonder that they sometimes veer from happy to sad or from joyful to mad in less than a split second. It’s hard to know how to respond without getting sucked into the drama, much less how to actually help.
During our conversation, my friend shared a powerful analogy that is guiding her through this season of parenting twin senior girls. The way she described it is that our teenagers are on a roller-coaster ride, but although we are always close by, we do not have to strap ourselves into the car and ride it with them.
“I imagine I am there by the ride—maybe on the exit platform,” she explained. “I’m right there for them, but I am not on the ride. I get to choose to stay steady while their hormones and brains are taking them on crazy highs, lows, twists and turns.”
I’m not a big fan of actual roller coasters, and I dislike emotional ones even more. So my friend’s visual often comes to mind when someone I love appears to be whipping around on one of these emotion-fueled theme-park rides.
The trick, of course, is to do what my friend describes—to keep myself off the ride, no matter how easy it would be to hop aboard too.
It feels a bit counterintuitive to respond rather than react when a teenager is upset. To listen when she is venting, rather than prod her to look at the other side of the story right off the bat. To use what a former FBI hostage negotiator calls a “late-night FM DJ voice” when we are tempted to lower someone else’s intensity by raising our own.
The Bible tells us a gentle answer turns away anger. (Proverbs 15:1, HCSB) Not only that, as every parent who has desired to have a meaningful conversation with an older child can attest, timing is everything—when providing redirection, imparting life lessons or even offering tender encouragement. (I often want to dump it all out at once, the more the better, but that rarely works.)
Responding in all these ways requires self-control, something I frequently lack even as I’m hoping to see more of it in my children. But remembering the roller-coaster analogy—sooner rather than later—does help.
It also bears mentioning that this word picture doesn’t just apply to teenagers. It can be useful when we’re interacting with people of any age or season of life who are over-reacting or struggling to maintain their emotional equilibrium.
We might have to talk them down from the ledge, and that might take some time.
We might feel the effects of some verbal shrapnel, even from a distance.
But while it may not always be easy, we always have a choice.
We don’t have to ride the roller coaster with them.
♥ Lois
We don’t have to ride the emotional roller coaster with our teenagers. Share on X We get to choose to stay steady while our teenagers' hormones and brains are taking them on crazy highs, lows, twists and turns. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.