anxiety and how it wrecks us as women

we're still fighting the bad dreams. we're fighting them with music and prayer and lava lamps. we're fighting them with late night tears and early morning snuggles. and over and over, we're reminding our eldest son with the old soul eyes that the monsters, while real, are already defeated. that evil died when Jesus was born, and in the same manner as a boy named david killed a giant named Goliath, children everywhere can kill the enemy through bedtime prayers.

aiden whispers, "satan, go, in Jesus' name. amen." and i tell him that the light is brighter inside him than in any lava lamp.

and he turns on his turtle lamp and shines moons and stars on the ceiling and we talk about how God knows them all by name, all of those stars. we name them, Bob the Builder, and Caillou, and Joey and Jin and Aiden and Kasher, and it's hard to be afraid in the face of all that's familiar.

but then i walk upstairs and pour myself a glass of wine and sit in my chair and i can't even check the news for the fear. i can only check my email, and just barely, because when i listen to the news, or read horrible stories, the anxiety that robbed my grandma dow makes my spirit tremble.

it's why i went on mild anti-depressants when kasher was born. i don't know if it was the hormones but all of a sudden, two babies made the world with all of its pedaphiles and tsunamis too much.

worry robs a lot of women. anxiety riddles us useless because we're suddenly responsible for these little lives and we can't even take care of our own.

i set down my wine carefully, and i cry carefully too, into my palms, because everything must be controlled. and someone told me recently that it's not that i'm a control freak. it's that my past was so unpredictable, my growing up years, so chaotic and because i had no say over where we lived or what i wore, for so long, i am now desperate for order. i like my kitchen neat, i like my living room vacuumed at the end of the day, i like the toys where they belong, and i like quiet. because i can hear myself breathe when it's quiet, and then i know i'm alive.

trent and i went snowboarding today and on the way home, we were talking about new year's resolutions.

"what do you wish for me?" he asked, and i told him, "i hope that you'll enjoy your job more."

he nodded. then he said, "and for you, i wish that you will stop worrying. that you won't be so anxious, and that you'll take one day at a time." then he broke into song, like he sometimes does, "because the Lord your God is with you!"

because the Lord our God is with us. not because of us. but because of him. we just need to utter the trembling whisper, "in Jesus' name," and he will come. his light will shine brighter than any lava lamp.

the stars all twinkling and known by name.

(linking with laura, michelle, heather and jen today)