Worry hits me like a sharp, shallow breathing, right in the middle of the Wal-Mart.
There I am, just picking the cereal for the week and mentally running through what we already have at home in the pantry, when I realize my breaths are kind of shallow, kind of pained deep in my stomach.
Maybe it’s not even worry; it’s more just thought after thought piling on over time.
Thinking about the to-do-list items, an upcoming birthday, field hockey and dance, rehearsals, families around me in need, work craziness, and ministry decisions. I’m thinking about playground woes with mean girls for one daughter and tween emotions for two others and preschool for my son.
I feel “off.” Unsettled. Worn down. Tangled up.
As I push my cart around the store, I take some deep breaths and pray some quick prayers.
Dear Jesus, for my children….
Dear Jesus, for my own…
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