The whole thing was so ridiculous I could hardly take my toddler seriously. My husband and I were bringing food from the kitchen to the table when she panicked that she wouldn’t get dinner.
I hollered over my shoulder, “Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll bring you food.”
My daughter burst into tears. “I wowwied, Mommy! I wowwied!”
Eventually she acknowledged that — in theory — we always feed her. But as soon as it was time for seconds she lost it again. “I need something to eat. Daddy’s going to eat it all gone!”
Later that night my husband remarked, “She really doesn’t believe we’re good.”
I began to feel uncomfortable. The dinner incident made me laugh, but I was the punchline. I’m the ridiculous one who worries that God won’t give me bread.
*****
What do we do when thoughts of our kids, or our marriage, or our jobs are filled with anxiety? What do we do when it’s three o’clock in the morning and no matter how many times we flip over or how we arrange the covers, our anxious thoughts linger?
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