Feeling Settled in the World

Leaving Anxiety Behind

When I was a child, I had a pervasive fear that I would be kidnapped. Every night, I kneeled by my bed (or the couch, because it was closer to Mama and Daddy’s room, and I slept there often because I was so afraid), and I would pray that nothing bad would happen to everyone I loved, and that I wouldn’t be kidnapped, and that I wouldn’t wet the bed. In Jesus’s name, Amen.

When I started kindergarten, I cried every day when Mama dropped me off. I was so afraid something would happen to her while I was gone. I imagined the station wagon wrecking, or someone taking her away from me. I can still see the image that haunted my five year old mind—me, standing in front of the school, the last one there. All alone.

I remember sleeping in my parents’ room on a pallet on the floor, telling Mama I was scared. She said to think about happy things. That you can’t think about scary things and happy things at the same time. I spent so many nights of my childhood trying desperately to get to sleep by thinking of my next birthday.

This is fresh on my mind, because this week, one of my daughters came to me crying, saying that no matter how hard she tries to get to sleep, she can’t stop thinking of all of the bad things that could happen to us. Fear rose up in me again for her. I didn’t want any fear to darken the bright light of her beautiful countenance.

I had a flashback to age 5, sitting in the choir loft at church so that I could be close to Mama while she played the piano. I was too afraid to be in one of the church pews—it was too far away, and anything could happen.

When I was 15 and most of my eight siblings had moved away, there was space in the house for me to have my own room. While we were painting and decorating, I was secretly hoping and praying that I wouldn’t be too scared to sleep in it.

I realized early on that I couldn’t read scary books or watch scary movies because they absolutely haunted me. But I didn’t understand what a grip fear had on my life until I was about eighteen. Some friends and I went through Beth Moore’s bible study, Breaking Free, and it was then that I realized I had a real problem. In the study, I learned the life-changing practice of replacing fearful thoughts with God’s promises. I began to choose a scripture that spoke to a specific fear, and I would say it over and over while I was trying to get to sleep. This helped me to feel settled in a world where anything can happen. It reminded me that I am not in control, but I can trust God, who is.

Falling in love brought new fears. Heartbreak even more. Getting married opened new depth to the possibilities of what loss could mean. I would fall back into fear in some seasons, but applying the word of God to those fears kept me moving forward in relative peace. Journaling also helped my restless heart to feel at ease, another way to settle into the real life that was before me. In writing, I could see the error of my thought. I could name my fears more quickly and release them to God. Because even though irrational fears will likely never happen, our quiet, unassuming lives are pressed right up against the raw, jagged edges of this world. And bad things do happen. Terrible things happen. The unexpected can and will happen to everyone. And each of us, in our own time and season, will be called to experiences that can only be well-endured through the strength and comfort of the Holy Spirit.

When I became a mother, fear rose wildly to the surface of my life again. The knowledge that I was in control of a helpless little life, even though I had no idea what I was doing, terrorized me. Birth threw me into a fear cycle that I can honestly say I could not have walked through again if God had not given me the tiniest bit of faith to trust Him. There is no greater testimony to God’s strength made perfect in my weakness than my family portrait, with Randy and me, and our nine children, all delivered into this world from my own body, even though I said so many times, “I can never do this again.”

Five pregnancies in, I learned that when thoughts of all the things that could go wrong start knocking on the door of my mind, I have to make a conscious, decided effort to slam the door shut and deadbolt it. This has been an exercise for me in trusting God more deeply. And it has been an action that I come back to over and over in my life when fear comes knocking. Instead of rehearsing all the things that could happen and how I would respond, I say no and shut the door. This is another way I have learned to feel settled in this world.

When first my mother and then my father died, I realized that the grace of God changes as we require it. It is a medicine perfectly dosed to our need. Though I feared this day would come every day of my childhood—being left alone by my the death of my parents—I found that when it actually happened, God was more clearly present than I had ever known him before. He carried me through death as seamlessly as he carried me through birth. His presence is a comfort that I cling to. It settles me as I grow to learn more of the harrows and hazards of this aching, heart-breaking world.

This world is not our true home. We were made to live in a world where there is no death or sorrow or pain. We are merely traveling through. But we must settle ourselves here for our season. We must brighten our days with hope. Light candles of prayer and shut out voices of fear. God desires us to have peace. It is a gift he extends to us.

There is no room in the year ahead for anxiety. It will eat up your life. It will leave you restless. Homeless.

God desires to give you a home that is built from His presence. Wherever you find yourself, He will surround you. There is no darkness so deep that His light cannot penetrate it. There is no fear so great He cannot quiet it.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts nad your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:6-7, NIV)

Self-portrait as a baby with my parents, from my sketchbook 2024

Dear friends,

May you have the peace of God that passes all understanding as you bid the old year goodbye and welcome the bright hope of a new year in. Sending so much love.

Mackenzie

From the podcast:

On the last day of the year, I reflect on how this year has been different, what I have learned and some of the milestones of this year. I share some of our own family rhythms that we’ve established this year that have been making home in a family with eight children feel more like a wonderful life. And as always, I am looking for God at work in our lives. I am also thinking of things I want to leave behind and the things I am still hanging onto for dear life. I desperately desire to move into this new year with no fear and no regret and exchange these for hope and faith that is grounded in the goodness and mercy of God. Sharing these thoughts today, hoping they will encourage you on the eve of this New Year. (Originally posted December 2022)

From the Family Archive:

Randy’s beautiful music has served as a way to help my mind focus on the love and promises of God instead of my own fears. This would be a really good song to put to memory if you are feeling anxious.

Speaking:

I am thrilled to have been invited back to Burnt Hickory Baptist Church in Marietta to be a part of their Women’s Conference. I would love to see you there! Here is a line-up of speakers, and I am so happy my face is there! The conference is January 24-25, and tickets are now available. Click the image below to go to the church website.

From the Family Shop:

Paloma’s first batch of journals are en route to us! According to tracking, we should have them in hand by early next week. We will be packaging them out and shipping them to everyone who preordered. If you would like to purchase a journal, click the image above to go to our family store.

Until next week/next year! Sending love.

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