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Mr. Worry
There’s this man…
He still fits into all his clothes from 6th grade. His throat swells up like a balloon at the idea of voicing his opinions. He’s terribly afraid of judgement — he’s a real stick in the mud.
No matter the situation, he finds a way to reveal the potential disaster lurking beyond any practical and simple situation.
He could accept an award for “World’s Greatest Achievement” and he’d still dread the idea of being in the lime-light. Because he’s a coward. Any situation that threatens to expose his cowardice calls for worry and anxiety. This man’s a wizard of insecurity; the King of “what could go wrong…” And this man lives inside my head.
I don’t know who he is, I don’t know where he came from, all I know is I hate him.
This morning while pouring coffee, I caught myself worrying seemingly for the sake of worrying. Here’s me, just casually enjoying my morning, then this cancerous terror comes crashing in like a brick through a window. Like woah, woah, woah, wait a second! I’m just making coffee? Why are we going to war right now? At least let me enjoy my dinosaur oatmeal in peace, then we can address all the pain, anxiety, and worry of the day ahead of me.
Please.
Later today, I’m helping an old friend at my church. (He’s literally old, like 60 years old.) I’m…
