It would be so much simpler if there was always a cause and effect. But over the years I’ve simply found that there isn’t always one.
I had a good day yesterday. I slept in and puttered around the house and on the computer. In the evening, I worked at the bookstore. It made for a late night since on Saturdays we are open until 11:00PM and we had been slammed most of the evening. It meant that recovery took us a solid 45 minutes. It probably should have been longer, but the manager was shooing us out the door. It made for a late night but it was still a good day.
I got up about 8 this morning and made it to 9:00 KidStuf. But somewhere in there anxiety inexplicably wormed its way in. There was nothing that I could put my finger on to be anxious about. I don’t think that “being anxious about nothing” in this context was what Paul meant when he wrote in Philippians 4:6, “Do not be anxious about nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”
I had a couple reactions to the sudden onslaught. My first thought was to flee. Like some of the animals I love — horses and cats — I am a flight animal by nature. God whispered in my ear, “Start down that road and it will be hard to turn back. It will become a habit quickly,” I stayed and wandered restlessly through the entire break between services.
The anxiety did not lessen second service. Rather, I turned into a puddle and cried during each worship song. Again, there was the feeling of needing to flee. But I stayed.
Well, I stayed exactly until church was over. There was no one on my right. And the person on my left was immediately engaged in conversation. I grabbed my stuff and sprinted to the door.
But the anxiety really had little, I think, to do with church. I got home and still felt anxious.
Anxiety is a hard thing to explain to someone who has never experienced it. It is much more than butterflies in the tummy. Rather, it is like a huge spring in you body being tightened and twisted until it might burst.
Sometimes there isn’t much energy associated with it — just a restlessness. But today, there was some energy behind mine. I made a choice. My first option was to hole up in my bed and pull the covers up. My second choice was to do something. I opted for the second.
I hate yard work. My dad always did all of the outside jobs. It was his domain. Consequently, I didn’t learn how to mow the grass until last year. Thankfully, a friend did it for me a few times and then taught me how.
So, I checked the oil and added gas and pulled and pulled and pulled. About the 10th pull (right before I was ready to give up in despair), it started and I began the chore. As I came around the front, I realized that my closest neighbor (out townhouse are adjoined and she is also single) needed her yard done as well. So, when I came to the end of my lawn I kept going. On the swing back, I realized that my other neighbor (a single mom with two girls) needed her yard done as well. I hesitated a moment and then crossed into her yard. I did the 3 yards in long sweeps and hoped my neighbor’s neighbors weren’t watching and expecting me to keep going and going and going!
Proverbs 12:25 says, “An anxious heart weighs a man down, but a kind word cheers him up.” I guess I adapted to “An anxious heart weighs her down, but doing a kind deed cheers her up.”
We now probably have three of the worst cut lawns (given my inexperience) in the neighborhood, but they are cut! Though, not having a weed eater or trimmer or whatever it is I would need, I’m not sure how to get right along the fence . . . .
So, the lawns are cut and while there is still a hint of anxiety, it’s not nearly as strong as it was earlier. I feel as if I chose hope when in the past I would have chosen retreat.
