So, as I work on not getting all anxious and out of rest, the thoughts come. They sneak in. This morning I was making school lunches, and this one came along out of the blue: Who will homeschool Jonathan? What if he has to go back to school? Then I told myself to Stop It, Right Now. I am not dead and buried, I am not anything but alive and well, and I am not jumping off of any bridges until I come to them, and yes, I know that's not how the saying goes but I like it better that way. Anyway.
Thoughts come. I feel like all of my life has gone by in a blur, and I had this thought: So this is how it ends. NO! I cannot think that way!
Yeah, perhaps I am making a huge stinkin' deal out of absolutely nothing. But to ME, it isn't absolutely nothing. It is a battle of whether I will listen to my thoughts, entertain them, give in to worry....or whether I will fight against that spirit of anxiety which would weight me down.
I will say this though: I have had a wonderful morning. There is nothing like the mere thought of the spector of death that makes one appreciate one's life! My sweet little girls, oh how I spoiled them this morning. Ice cream money and M&M's in their lunches. I braided their hair just so, and sent them with notes that I would pick them up today, not even at dismissal, 45 minutes early!
Yes, it puts things in quick perspective. Our days are numbered, and whether this scare turns into just a scare or it is the real full-blown dreaded Big K, as my kids call it, I will use my time wisely. I mean seriously, if you knew with absolute certainty that you were going to die in one week, or tomorrow, would you hold a grudge against someone? Would you complain about mundane things? Would you waste your time wishing things in your life were better or different? I know what I would do...I would hug my kids and my husband and be nice and forgiving and be thankful for each and every little thing, I would serve with gladness in my heart, and resist sin with all my might. I would encourage others to turn to God, and not waste a single minute caring what anyone thought of me. I wouldn't stress about my house, although honestly I would like to clean my room before I check out. Does anyone else out there ever imagine what people would think if/when they went through all your stuff after you die? Perhaps it's because my sister and I cleaned out my mother's stuff after she passed, but yes, I do think about. (When we cleaned out our mom's stuff, we laughed and we cried and we laughed some more. My mother had made her own post-massectomy bras....she stuffed them with washcloths, and oh my goodness our hearts broke for her and her frugality. And the buttons and coupons and bra extenders and old lotions and dolls and junky things she thought were valuable...oh my. My poor father couldn't bear to go in her room and go through her things, so he was ever so thankful for us, he sat in the living room trying to keep little baby Charlotte Claire happy in her car seat. He was sick with leukemia then....oh dear. too much sadness for this morning.)
Anyway. I am okay. I am not picking out tombstones yet, although it does make me laugh to remember that my son Aaron said one time, "On Mom's gravestone it should say, "She Tried." It is just so funny. He isn't mean, he is just accurate.
So, since life goes on, I am going to finish the shopping that I wimped out on yesterday. I mean, seriously? Getting that phone call in the grocery store? My body took on a life of it's own, and started shaking without my permission. I somehow got to the check-out, and realized I hadn't eaten in hours, so I felt like I was going to faint. Fear, not enough to eat, too much coffee...I ate a Balance bar as I stood there in line, not even caring if other people were thinking that the fat lady was eating a candy bar.
Anyway, I have to go finish up. Soda and water for the grill for this weekend at church, and milk for here. I really should go to Walmart for more spoons. I'm telling you, the kids take yogurt with the when they go out the door, and lose those spoons. Or perhaps the sock monster is stealing spoons now too.
Sam asked last night why I didn't get any milk. And I realized that no matter what is going on with me, I will still have to buy milk.