What Tomorrow Holds

For me, tomorrow holds an MRI, or at least that’s what’s on the calendar as of today. (I guess it could always change…) Because of ongoing struggles with vertigo and dizziness, my doctor has ordered a brain scan. Talk about a case of the Mondays! To be honest, it’s not something that I’ve given a lot of thought to. I’ve just kept pushing forward. I don’t have a choice to stop and sit down and pout, because there are a lot of people depending on me. I think that’s been good for me. But today I began to feel a growing sense of unease about tomorrow’s scans. I’ve long since committed to memory the verses in Matthew where Jesus instructs us not to worry, but this worry-free life can still be hard to live out.

Once again, I find in my daughter the perfect illustration which speaks to my worry today. Last week, Sophie began attending a new classroom at school. Things took a definite swing to the good with this move. I’ve been very excited about the positive change in her attitude towards school, with one exception. The day that she moved to a new classroom, Sophie went through here first fire drill at school this year. Since then (Thursday) anytime school comes up in conversation with anyone, Sophie points to her ear, her sign for “loud.” We’ve talked about this on several occasions. In talking with her, I’ve come to learn that it’s the fire alarm that has so traumatized her. She’s afraid of the noise and afraid it will happen again. In short, she’s worrying over the fire alarm any time she thinks about school. (She’s even begun plugging her ears!!) And in her little world, the only thing I’ve seen that worry do is steal from her the full extent of her joy over school. Yes, she still likes school, and she still says that she wants to go back, but it’s always tainted with that worry over the fire alarm.

And so it is with me. If I worry over what the scans tomorrow may hold for me, all I do is lose the full extent of my joy in life. Just like Sophie and school, I will still enjoy my life with my kids and my husband if I fret a little over the coming woes. But, I see in her situation, there’s truly nothing to worry about, and worry about it will change nothing. The fire alarm is just a noise — it can’t do anything to her. This MRI, which I know from Sophie’s MRIs, will be a loud noise… but I don’t want it to steal the joy of life away from me because I’m worrying over a little noise. (Really, in the grown up world, we know that’s not what worries me; it’s more what the little [read:big] noise machine might reveal about my brain that frightens me.)

I don’t want Sophie to worry over another fire alarm at school. I know one may come eventually, but I can see all the fun and learning that she will miss out on if she allows that noise to tie her up in worry. I don’t want that for her life, and I don’t want it for mine. When Sophie and I talked about this, I told her that she needed to commit her worry to Jesus and trust that he was always going to be there for her, even in the scary times. Big words for a three year old, but I figured truth is truth. I try to put it in a way that she can understand. And I want to do the same with my own health. I want to place myself in Jesus’ hands and know that he is big enough to handle it. He’s going to be with me every wobbly step of the way. (Seriously, I feel like I’m living on a ship right now.)

In essence, I have realized through Sophie’s worry, that my own worry will change little, and that there’s really nothing to worry over. If I choose to worry anyways, then I will just allow myself to be distracted and I will not enjoy my life to its fullest. I don’t want to let worry rob me of my day’s joy and of all the good things that God has for me.