I was watching my 10 month old eat breakfast / scatter breakfast / terrorize his cheerios this morning. He was chanting "YaYaYa" over and over very loudly as he beat his sweet, sticky arm on the highchair tray at the same time. We were both watching the cheerios bounce away with his pounding, and when they got just out of reach, that's when he decided he wanted them back. I'd play finger-and-cheerio shuffleboard and get them back to the center. He'd start the show all over again.
I feel that way about worries. I like having something for my mind to play with. It's like a particularly destructive puppy with a bone - that dog is going to do his best to rip it to pieces and then scatter the pieces and bury them and then dig them back up. My mind needs something to roll around and worry over. At least one thing. I think I like the feeling of helping God work things out for me.I visualize every possibility and with all conceivable outcomes. Too bad I tend to make more of my worry than it really is.
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