Worst fears

If you imagine your worst dark fears, they won't happen. Right?

I found a Facebook message I sent my niece, Anna, a few weeks before the wedding. She had asked how the mother of the bride was doing. This is what I said:

Mom of the bride is good. Haven't been too stressed, but that's only because I've been in denial. Now my stomach gets occasional twinges and I feel like I need to go pee. Nerves.

It has started to hit. We are throwing a party for 250 and feeding them dinner. And two very different extended families will be partying together. It might all cumbust. Figuratively and/or literally.

Grandpa is sitting in his lazy boy and worrying about the candles burning the place down. And then I get worried about that. And, I wonder if they have a sprinkler system. And the horror of the sprinkler system being set off from the smoke of 200 burning candles.

Or, some little kid tipping over one of the candle jars and the tablecloth going up in flames and the fire jumping from one table to the next.

Or, Amber getting a migraine and passing out at the altar.

There. I think that covers my worst fears. I think if you verbalize your worst dark fears, they won't happen. Right?

You'd think after being around this long I wouldn't still be imagining the worst possible scenario. But I do. I think the worst and hope for the better. It seems to work for me except that I'm neurotic most of the time.

I think I come by worry naturally. My dad was a worrier. When we were growing up, he was a ball of nerves. He worried about the farm, the cows getting out, possible hail damage. He worried about the country going in the wrong direction, his kids going astray...well, he worried about everything.

He still worries, but it's more out of habit. It's mostly about things like if he's taken his pills on time. Or, if the candles will burn the church down. On the biggies, he seems to have a peace. He's no longer taking on the worries of the world. 

My dad's time on this earth is coming to an end. He's 83. He has a long list of health problems. But he has a grateful, sweet spirit with his personality intact--minus the anxiety. Recently, when I was visiting my parents, I asked him if he was worried about where he'd be going after he died. He said with absolute confidence, "Not a bit." I asked him if he wondered what it would be like in heaven. And, he said, "Oh, sometimes I wonder a little." He gave a small shrug and then smiled. "But I'm looking forward to it."

Really, there's only one thing that is worthy of our worry and that's spending an eternity being separated from God. My dad knows where he's going. He's put his trust in Christ for his salvation.

My dad has no worries.


If you like my Mama Drama blog, check out my first blog: Losing It: A mom's story of weight loss and transformation:
http://jacci-clark.blogspot.com/2011/04/diving-for-pie.html