It’s all about attitude

DaMomma posted recently about worries keeping her up at night. Her life is in a state of upheaval right now and I can understand where she’s coming from. I posted the following in her comments (mine was 57, I think, in response to her question, “What do you stress about?”)

I don’t worry. I used to worry about everything. Then we moved four times in six years (once overseas and once back). I have spent most of those years homeschooling with a round budget (no corner left to cut) and mounting debt. Our cat died a month after we arrived in Italy; when we moved home a year later we imported two cats and could have had more but Hubby said I couldn’t save them all. My kids are teens, we have a mortgage, my primary job (besides teaching my daughter) is washing dishes at a bistro. It’s all in God’s hands, and when I start to get worried about something I dump it on Him. Worry is fear, and fear is a sin, and that’s the hardest lesson I’ve ever had to learn.

I know all about fear and stress and uncertainty. I know from recent experience how it feels to face impending unemployment, to juggle the budget and squirrel away every spare dime to make sure we can keep the lights on until another job comes up. I know what it is to tell my boss I need more hours so that I can make sure the kids stay fed while Eric finds a new job, and then to feel guilty at how many hours of summer vacation I spent with my hands in dishwater instead of with my kids.

It’s all learning. It’s all growth. The kids didn’t suffer from my absense; they were with their friends, and their friends’ moms were keeping an eye out, making sure everyone stayed out of trouble.

My life used to resemble a country song. Yeah, you know, the one where the dog dies and the house burns and the truck breaks down on the side of the road with three flats and the hubby is in a bar with a bunch of beer-swilling hussies. (No, Eric was never in a bar with beer-swilling hussies; it’s an analogy.) Then I moved four times in six years and homeschooled.

Now my life is closer to a praise song. I’m finding more and more I’m content in all circumstances, or more of them. I’m not on par with the Apostle Paul, but I’m getting here. (On the other hand, Paul was never the parent of teens.)

What kind of music is your life?

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