Last night I woke at 3 am to worry. It’s my job. I do it for my family so they don’t have to, and I usually punch the timeclock at around 3 or 4 am. Another part of this job is to wander the house “checking” on things. Make sure everyone is breathing, doublecheck that all the doors are locked, no fires smoldering anywhere…you know.
What is it about worry? Do we think that if we worry enough about something, we’ll somehow protect ourselves from it happening to us? Take for instance the constant worry of mankind that the world will end soon – which we’ve been worried about since the beginning of time. It never happens, it likely never will, and yet we worry. Worry is such a ridiculous waste of energy. It helps nothing and only stresses and wears down our health and immune system (yet something else to worry about). If I could accumulate all the time and energy I’ve spent on worry, and reapply it to something positive in my life, what wonders could occur.
This particular night, I was worried about my dog. In the last four years, I have watched two of my dogs die a long painful death from some type of mysterious cancer that the vets couldn’t quite peg. And now the only dog I have left was suffering some type of allergy, itching all the time (common to French Bulldogs) and my goodness….he looked a little thinner to me, even though Troy thought he looked the same as always.
Nonetheless my eyes flew open at 3 am, and my mind was on alert – Okay, ready to worry. Let’s do this.
Then I realized now nutballs I am and instead used the time to talk myself down. Really, he looks the same, he acts the same, he’s only four years old and he’s itchy. That’s it. He’s not dying of cancer. So why not just focus on his good health, pray for continued good health, and trust that everything will be okay? So I prayed, and lied awake, and still worried.
In the morning I talked to Troy about it (who is not at all worried about the perfectly healthy, itchy dog). I told him that I myself sort of feel like a dog, one who’s been kicked for a while with repeated bad surprises from life, the kind of dog who recoils when you go to pet him for fear you’re just going to whack him on the head. That’s how much I trust life….goes back to what I said in my last post about waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And that’s when Troy said this to me -
“Honey, everything is okay. It’s a new year, a new beginning. The other shoe is not going to drop. And if it does, we’ll just dance like hell on the one shoe we have left.”
And that is reason number 1057 I love my husband. It also is the end of this blogpost because really….how can I top that?