Author: Abby McDonald (abby-mcdonald.com)
As soon as he sat down in the car, I knew something was wrong.
His face was downcast and his step had lost its usual after-school skip. I thought maybe he’d gotten a red mark at school, an indication he’d played class clown one too many times.
I wasn’t expecting what came in the following minutes.
“How was your day?”
“Fine,” he said without further comment.
I wanted to push further but restrained myself. I tried to calm my three-year-old’s incessant repetition of “Mama.” Then, as I was turning down the road back toward our house, it started.
“Actually, Sam made me mad.”
He corrected himself.
“Well, Sam made me sad.”
Tears fell and he covered his face. I was glad I was driving with him in the back seat so when he looked up, he couldn’t see my expression.
I took a deep breath and asked probing questions. I learned Sam had told my son they were no longer friends.
My mind flashed like a negative reel to a time many years ago when I’d heard those same words. I told my son I was sure this boy didn’t mean it and silently prayed. I asked why his classmate would say this.
I fought my lioness urge to track down the school bus, find this kid, and demand an explanation.
Later, after my son calmed and we talked more about the situation, my wise husband reminded me that at the tender young age of six, everything is in absolutes.
That will never happen. We never do anything fun. You’re not my friend anymore.
The next day when my son stepped off the bus in a chipper mood, I realized my spouse was right. I was relieved, but wondered what would happen if the situation had turned out differently.
My mind went outside of God’s grace into the unknown, and questioned the tiny details of my son’s life.
What if this sort of thing continued? What if he isn’t making the right friends? Would his tender heart later lead to heartbreak?
The further I went down the trail of circumstances I couldn’t control, the more restless and anxious I became.
Several days later, I sat outside soaking sunlight when God hit me with the truth of these words:
Abram believed the LORD, and he credited it to him as righteousness. Genesis 15:6 NIV
How often to I say I believe God with my mouth and my words but my attitude says otherwise?
He says he knows the plans he has for my children, and they are plans for good. He says not a sparrow falls to the ground without his care.
Abram’s story goes on to show he not only said he believed God, but was obedient and acted on this faith. You see, friends, James cuts straight to the heart of the matter when he says, “Faith without deeds is dead.” James 2:25 NIV
Faith moves us forward in obedience. Worry keeps us in a holding pattern of regret.
Faith means doing what I can to raise boys who love, forgive, and give grace, and then trusting God to do what only he can.
I trust him to protect them and watch over them. To guide their steps when they’re out of my watchful care.
It means relinquishing control to the one who is in control, and believing he’s more than capable of taking the wheel.
So today, when my mind becomes restless with worry, I’m going to surrender those thoughts to him and actually do something. I’m going to pray.
I’m going to fill the endless wheel of anxious thoughts with a list of his promises. I’m going to trade relentless worry with unwavering faith.
Father, thank you that you hold my life, and my children’s lives in your hands. Thank you that you are trust-worthy and faithful. Help me to release all of my worries, and simply rest in your loving arms. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.