We'll Laugh About This SomedaySample

As I sat at my desk, begging for guidance on what to do and where to go, I felt an impulse to release every single fear onto a piece of paper. I needed to spill it out as a way of surrender, a way of saying to God, “Here, you deal with it. I’ve gotta feed the girls breakfast.” I opened my desk drawer, found three-by-five index cards, and let it pour until there was no fear left undetected inside me. Then I slipped the cards into a wooden box on the shelf and promptly forgot all about it. . . . We had been in our new house for quite some time, but whenever I’ve moved into a new place, there’s always been a handful of boxes that never get unpacked. . . . There on top was a wooden box. I opened it, and inside were all of my old fears. After a quick scan for spiders, I sat down next to the box and read each fear, one by one. My first fear was the one that led right to where I was sitting—fear that after being told I had less than a month to pack up and leave, we wouldn’t find anything good to move into. Little did I know a renowned architect had already built us the most delightful home, and it was just waiting for us to move in. But what I really didn’t see coming was the flood. Within six months after our move, Nebraska would experience historic rain and ice melt. As the rivers rose, so did the lake. Up, up, up to the beach of the home I had so desperately wanted to be my own. . . .The same house that didn’t qualify for flood insurance. And that was just my first fear—there were more. . . . All those fears, I thought, while ripping the cards in half. And not a single one came true. . . . After reading my list again, I decided I wouldn’t fear the end of the world until the world actually ends. Prayer Lord, thank you for allowing me to lay my worries at your feet. Please help me to let go of my fears and turn my life over to you. Amen.