I have decided that I do not want to be an anxious person any more, ever again.
When I was a small child, my dad sat me down on the coffee table opposite from him on the couch, looked me gravely in the eye and explained exactly what an ulcer was and how I was too young to have one. I also remember my mother telling me that I could "what if" myself to death if I really wanted to. I went to school that same day and literally made myself sick because I was so afraid of my teacher. I'll spare you the details. It involved vomit in a classroom.
I am very talented at talking myself into needless despair, convincing myself that I am somehow inferior and undeserving of every good and perfect gift everyone else should have.
One night Amy was all worked up over something or other and I said "Jesus says not to worry". She looked up at me with bright clear eyes and said I was right. I really don't think she has worried about anything since. The next week she spoke my words right back to me in a fitting situation, and I really didn't appreciate her input. Not when I was so set on worrying.
I hate seeing people I love full of angst. There's no need for that. Their light and momentary troubles are no match for the glory that's holding them.
I have just got to figure out a way of making myself believe what I tell my friends; that tomorrow can worry about itself, and that if God cares enough about the birds to make sure they have enough crumbs to make it through the day, He's got me covered too.
I'll let you know how it goes.