Don’t Borrow Trouble

“Caroline, I learned raising you with all of your health problems that you can’t borrow trouble.”

The quote above is from a conversation today with my mom about my son’s health. A routine trip to the urgent care to make sure that bronchitis or pneumonia had not declared itself in my son’s lungs turned into a six-hour ordeal involving multiple breathing treatments and more doctor’s appointments and testing to come. I’ll know more this week and am really trying to not borrow trouble, but I’m also really good at it. If it was a salaried talent, I would be a “zillionairre” by now!

I admit there is hypocrisy with me in this area. I just wrote a post about not allowing life’s distractions (Distractions, Distractions) to get in the way of keeping focus on the Lord, and here I am just a few days later getting distracted by the “what if’s”, “why now’s”, and tomorrow’s worries that may or may not even come to fruition. I will suggest to others to not fret over what may or may not be a problem. I’ll quote scripture and encourage others to pray, but often I do not take my own advice as well as I would like to admit.

I do not believe that the Lord wants us to fret over situations. We are to cast all of our cares onto Him in good faith knowing that He has already declared the victories in our lives. The walk on this Earth is hard. Our money runs out, our relationships lay in ruins, and our bodies break-down; yet, He never changes.

HE.NEVER.CHANGES

While my mom told me not to borrow trouble, she also suggested to be prepared. Learn about possible conditions, think through scenarios, and be open to the possibility that health matters can become serious. She knows this first hand from raising me. You can learn a little bit more about her in my post titled Mother’s Resilience that I wrote on Mother’s Day. She has always told me to “trust my gut and intuition” when it comes to my children. I feel that this gift is one the Lord has given to women. That ability proved invaluable when she was raising me. Her persistence and determination to get answers played a big role in saving my life during my illness.

So for now, I am going to walk in faith trusting the instinct the Lord has granted me with my children and trusting Him to work out the details. I am going to put as much effort as I can to focus on the hope that comes from the Lord instead of the hap-hazards of being human. Regardless of the outcome, I have comfort knowing that the Lord already has tomorrow’s troubles in His Heavenly Hands.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

– Jeremiah 29:11

Road to Joplin

This weekend I had the privilege of riding in a cycling event called the MS 150. Every year hundreds, if not a thousand or so cyclists make their way to a small town in southwest Missouri to complete a 150 mile bike ride. This is done to bring attention and raise funds for Multiple Sclerosis.

This was my third year riding in this event. I always seem to walk away from it with a great sense of accomplishment. It is also quite humbling to be cheered on at the start line by people who live daily with MS. This year, a woman with MS said to us, “When you get towards the last few miles and your legs are burning, just remember me saying Thank You. Just remember that you are riding for many of us who cannot.” Then, at the finish line, the same man every year, bound to his wheelchair, holds his hand out with a medal dangling from it. As one reaches for his or her medal, the man gently says “thank you”. It is quite humbling and I hope to ride in future 150’s.

This year though had even more of an impact on me, but for a different reason. This is the first year that the ride took us back to Joplin, MO after the deadly tornado which claimed the lives of so many in May 2011. Last year, the ride had to be rerouted and completely taken out of the Joplin area due to the devastation of the storm. I had been there about a week or so after the tornado struck, and was silenced by what I had seen. Cars with windshields blown out laying on top of each other, buildings that looked like they exploded by the force of a bomb, houses upon houses crumbled up like sticks, and trees stripped completely down to the bark. It was shocking. Just shocking. The city I live in is close to Joplin and we are so lucky that the storm did not rumble its way towards us.

Although my work has taken me back to Joplin a few times, I usually do not drive through the area where the destruction took place. This year, the MS committee planned the route specifically to take us through some of the path of the tornado. Before I entered this area, my legs were screaming, my mind was off in some other place, there was pain tucked right in between my shoulders, and I was ready to be done. I had been in the saddle for about seven hours, and my own “saddle” was telling me it was time to get off.

However, this changed when I entered the area where that beast of a storm stole normalcy from the lives of so many. The few trees that survived were mangled. Their bare branches looked like hands reaching towards the heavens in desperation. Others bent over, all leaning to one side; yet, fresh green leaves bushed out from whatever spot they could find.

As I got closer to the eerily flattened area where houses once stood, I thought about the families and children who once lived there. I imagined kickball being played in the streets, children swinging from swing sets, families walking their pet dogs or washing their cars. All of this wiped clean. Sure, there were new houses being built and definitely the vision of new growth could be seen, but I just kept thinking about how much destruction took place on those grounds. The names of streets had been painted on the roads. The ground was completely stripped of grass. There were partially crumbled buildings still being torn down. It just went on and on.

As I drew nearer to the “end” of the destruction zone, I became overwhelmed with emotion. I thought about the mothers who lost their babies, the babies who lost their daddies and mommies, and all the others who never woke again on this Earth to see the sun rise. All I could think was “so much destruction, so much despair.”

But there in that moment on my bike with nothing but my own thoughts, I realized, or at least was reminded, that the Lord is not a god of destruction. He is not a god of devastation. He is not a god of despair. He is the God of regrowth, rebirth, restoration, and life. He lifts up our heads. He carries us through the storms. He gives us life.

The next morning as 800 or cyclists gathered around to start day two of the cycling event, small Joplin flags were handed out to each of us. We placed them in our helmets, on our bikes, or held them in our hands as we rode through part of what was named “Memorial Miles”. With just the sound of wind, the breathing of fellow riders, and the hissing-like noises from spinning our wheels, we rode in silence in honor of those killed by the Joplin tornado and in honor of the courage it has taken for the city to rebuild.

This year the road to Joplin became more than just a cycling event that I love to participate in. Yes, it was done in an effort to support those struggling with Multiple Sclerosis. However, I left the event with Joplin on my mind. This weekend turned into a reminder of the blessing of health, of love, of family, of home, and of our incredible Heavenly Father who restores, renews, and leads us to Life.