Last night I went to bed feeling anxious. I have struggled with anxiety for most of my life and these days, more often than not, it doesn't rule over me. But there are times when it sneaks up and taps me on the shoulder...reminding me that it is still there. The "what ifs" loom in front of me menacingly, and I feel like life could come crashing down at any minute. I guess the truth is, it could, but is that how I want to live?
Life is fragile, and I know there is only so much I can do about the outcome. Then I just have to trust God. (Its either that or go crazy and I haven't asked, but I think my husband would prefer a wife who trust God over one who is nuts.) And you know what? I would to. I can make myself sick or I can live with joy.
I see a difference in my daughter, even at this tiny age, when I am living with anxiety verses living with trust. I don't want to teach her to live fearfully. I want to teach her to spread her arms out and jump into her Father's arms. I want her to live life with passion, adventure, and faith. And even though the thought of me jumping with abandon into awaiting arms seems like a stretch, I think I need to spread my arms out and just go...because God's arms are big enough to catch even me. So here I go, "Ready. Set. JUMP!"