The Fine Art of Hurling

Last night I fell asleep at once, but was back awake within an hour and, I had to admit, feeling anxious. I'd spent much of yesterday trying to find photos for the magazine I've been writing/editing and, as always, finding it difficult and frustrating and stressful. So I lay there fretting, my shoulders tensed into hard knots, my jaws clenched, even my fingers feeling hard and stiff. But photos weren't enough. I thought also, painfully, of a family member in a difficult work situation--all options carrying huge risk. Then, of course, there's cancer and the future to be anxious about. This new realism I'm holding myself to results in embarrassing confession!

So it was a relief to remember Peter's (God's) words: "Hurl your anxieties on him, because he cares about you." First, I named them and owned them, then I lifted them up (heavy, I found them) and hurled them to God, where they made a soft landing in his limitlessly strong hands. And my soul filled with four amazing words: He cares about you. It became a litany. He's caring about you this moment. And this next moment. He still cares about you. And so I fell asleep. Guess what! He still cares about you. And me.

I found this on the blog of a friend in New Zealand yesterday: "There is something deeply spiritual about honoring the limitations of our human existence." Okay, it's true. I can't do this by myself. Thus I continue to practice the fine art of hurling my anxieties on God. Because he cares!

Blessings,
Carol