Oftentimes I feel like I don't have the time (or perhaps don't make and take the time) to sit back and reflect on the many things that impact my life.  However, when it does happen, it amazes me how I tend to worry most about the little things--the things that really aren't going to matter in the long run.  For example, I get extremely frazzled when people show up to my house unexpectedly....usually because my house isn't totally 100% pristine and I feel like people will judge me and think I'm a bad housewife because there are a few dirty dishes in the sink.  Or when plans get changed at the last minute--drives me crazy.  I get myself all worked up and in a tizzy and always spend forever ranting about the imminent bad outcome of said changed plans. 

In all honesty, it's a tad ridiculous.

Life is a constant, ever-changing, massive ball of unpredictability.  Circumstances change in an instant.  The path you set for yourself is almost never the path you end up walking down.  Things happen that you can't control (and if I'm truly honest with myself, and the world, I'm more than a bit of a control freak) and the best thing you can do is trust that God will handle the things you can't and get you through them.

The thing I find interesting, in my case however, is that when it comes to the big things--I mean, the huge, important, life-altering things--I don't worry about them.  I'm able to give up control and just trust that whatever happens, happens for a reason.

My dad is pretty sick right now.  He's had some rather major medical issues going on for the past several years, but they are all coming to a head now.  In the past six weeks he has had numerous tests run, received multiple blood transfusions and taken a trip to the ER that resulted in a 4-day hospital stay.  Without saying too much specifically, to protect his privacy, I can say that there is a good chance that his lease on life may be limited.  I hope that he's around for the next 30 years.  I know that probably won't happen.  But what I pray for is that God's will be done.  I know that God has a plan for my dad, as He does for each of us, and if His plan is for my dad to die at the age of 55, or 56, or 57, then that is what will happen.

When my mom first told me what my dad's diagnosis was, I wasn't surprised.  I'd seen it coming.  But hearing it spoken out loud was still a bit of a shock.  I took a day or two to grieve and to process, but I very quickly came to a place of acceptance.  I came to terms with the fact that my dad could possibly die very soon, within the next few years, perhaps even in the next few months and I am at peace with that.

I know that many people find it very difficult to believe me (or others) when I (or they) say that they don't have a problem with death.  That they don't fear death, whether it be their own or someone else's.  But I don't.  Death doesn't bother me.  My Christian belief, and that of my family, leaves me with the knowledge and hope of an afterlife in eternal Paradise.  I know that if my dad should die, that's where he's headed and he'll be much better off there than he is here.  I don't worry about him.  I'm not going to lie and say that I won't feel sad, that I won't grieve and have passing thoughts of "what if?"  But grief passes and the grief is for myself, for my mother, my brothers, my girls.  The grief is not for my father. 

It is easy for me to not worry about such a possibility.  And such a possibility would change my life, change the life of my mother, my siblings, my children--change them all irrevocably.  But I don't agonize over my dad's condition.  Yet I so easily agonize over the condition of my kitchen. 

When it's all said and done, however, I think I'm happy with the way things are.  I think I'd rather sweat the small things.  If I worried about my dad's condition, or our finances, or my in-laws the way I worry about whether or not my kid's clothes coordinate, I'd never have a moment's peace.  And peaceful moments are hard enough to come by without chasing them off with worry.

The older I get and the more stresses that come my way, the more I learn to appreciate that God is perfectly capable of handling those stresses and is more than willing to take them off my shoulders.  All it takes is a quickly whispered prayer.  He will gladly carry my burdens as long as I am willing to give up control and let Him. 

In the grand scheme of things, my dirty floor is really not all that heavy of a burden, so I'm ok with carrying it for now.  And maybe someday, as I grow older and wiser, I'll learn to let it go along with everything else.  Time will tell.