In January, I set up a Twitter account because that’s what you’re supposed to do these days when you’re launching something.
But so far, I’ve had zero followers or likes…or retweets — or whatever it’s called. I mostly just put a live link on @ZantSonja to whatever I’ve just posted on my blog. (With the exception of two times when I linked up a very Tide specific post on @Tide. And one of those two times, I think I actually “tweeted” a direct “tweet” to Tide…but I’m not totally sure I did that right.)
The good news is, TODAY I’m having a jam sesh with a super solid person in my world who is going to attempt to get me and my social profiles sorted and such. There’s so much I need to learn about the reach of this modern information era, and when you don’t know exactly what you’re doing, I’m told you miss a lot of the action. So I’m kind of looking forward to figuring this out today.
But one of the only things I’ve actually enjoyed about my Twitter account so far is following a handle called Very British Problems (@SoVeryBritish). Here’s a recent post that made me giggle in a very knowing way:
Brain: “Back to school tomorrow and you haven’t done your homework”
You: “I’m an adult”
Brian: “Let’s worry about it anyway”
Gosh, that’s funny to me because, you see, my brain is very British! And even though I’m an American, my Bentley DNA is all over me like a messy crime scene. So I agonize over most things, but I follow up my agony with a snarky comeback or two. I also say I’m sorry a lot, and, I often mumble my various snarky thoughts under my breath (or at least very loudly in my head) just so I can participate in the conversation without being too much of Nosey Paker.
My very best friend, Vanessa, is British, and whenever we’re together for any length of time, I can’t help but join her in her accent. All it takes is a cup of tea and a Jammie Dodger and I’m across the pond, speaking the Queen’s English with my bestie for the afternoon. In fact, when her daughter, Charlotte, was very young, she was lamenting the fact that after moving to the States, she didn’t have any friends from England to play with. Vanessa pointed out that she was in the same situation, and Charlotte shouted back, “Mummy! How can you say that? You have Sooonja!”
Indeed she does.
But today I was thinking about how much I authentically struggle with worry. And so all kidding aside, that Very British Problems tweet explains me to a tee. I want to be more awesome at the art of surrendering my worries, but I’m quite prone to fretting over things that sometimes aren’t even something that could happen to me. I run these odd “worst-case-scenarios” in my mind and, as my mother would say, I borrow trouble from days that haven’t even dawned on the horizon.
Buggar.
At the moment, I’m in one of those festering spaces in my brain and I want to out myself differently than I usually do. I’m praying and deeply pondering about some HUGE things going on in the lives of a couple of people I love with my whole heart, while I’m also trying not to overthink about this big possibility going on in Lou’s life right now, too.
So today on my morning hike, I made it up to my favorite spot to have a chat with God, and I started to do my festering out loud. It felt so good to pour my soul out like that, and, I for one, know that God hears our prayers. I also know how small my understanding of everything is, and how unlikely it is that I would even understand what God has in the works for me if He told me because my mind is simply too limited. (Which came via some helpful insight I recently got from a wise friend!)
And by now, I have thousands examples of hindsight proof that things in my life may work out differently than I prayed for them to, but with God’s hand in the mix, I’m always so much happier with His choice of outcomes. I don’t have enough vision to see beyond myself and my worries, and whenever I manage to get myself into a space of awe and reverence for God, I can at least find a peaceful relief from all of my worries.
But as I was carefully hiking down from my prayer spot, a spasm of worry crossed my mind, and I felt it vibrating there. I tried to push it away, but it was stubborn. It’s like the worry dug its heels into my brain, and it started inviting other thoughts into my head for a bit of a tea party. After the biscuits were passed, I heard the worry talking to one of my supporting thoughts, and the conversation went a little something like this:
Worry: “I’m sure you did a fine job of praying, but it only seems proper to carry the load with God.”
Thought: “Agreed – otherwise God might not know how invested I am in the outcome.”
Oiy!
It makes me laugh at myself when I consider how truly accurate that exchange is in my head most of the time. It honestly feels like worry is a duty or a activity that goes hand-in-glove with sorting out my life’s greatest issues. And, I almost can’t imagine just saying a prayer and walking away from the worry entirely!
But what if I did?
What if I just vented my prayer, and left it all on the hilltop, and hiked away without a care in the world? Well, even though my brain is hinting around that walking away from a problem might be a bit irresponsible, the American side of me is telling me it’s time to throw caution to the wind! So I’m just going to try it today. I’m completely giving my worries for my loved ones and myself to God, and I’m walking away…
