I have a way of keeping anxiety as a close companion, not willing to let it go. I invite it in for just a moment and then give it the run of the house. A worry floats into my head, and instead of batting it away or even putting it into God’s capable hands, I build it up, feed it tidbits of more worry, and soon the worries have multiplied, putting me in a stranglehold.

The other day I was feeding anxiety with more anxiety, trapping myself in a prison of my own making. Then I recalled something my son, Tim, in his senior year of high school said to his mother. It was a Sunday night, and he had a project he needed to get done, deadline looming, and she asked one time too many about its progress.

“Mom,” Tim said, “your anxiety is not making me get it done any faster.”

Ah, the unexpected wisdom of a teenager, puncturing the allure of anxiety. How often since I’ve used those words to myself. My anxiety is not helping me get things done. Then I ask the worry to leave, kick it out, send it packing, slam the door, and wish it a fond farewell. After all, how much good does my anxiety do? “Here, God,” I can say, “take this worry. I’ve had enough of it.” It’s gone.

Dear Lord, I gladly pass along today’s worries. I suspect I’ll have more for You tomorrow.

I like this. Isn't it true how worries can grow in your head? Take it to the Lord because, What a Friend We Have in Jesus!