a stellar smashing

There’s been this bump on my collarbone for as long as I can remember.

It’s on my left side, about an inch of the way down from where my collarbone fuses with my shoulder bone thing.

(I know there are anatomically correct terms for these parts–I knew them once during my junior year of high school, when I took a fairly rigorous Anatomy course–but alas, they have all slipped my mind. Dag.)

The first time I discovered it, I pressed my thumb into it with the hopes of pushing the solid mass back down into the bone from which it was growing. Didn’t work. I immediately began to worry–perhaps this lump was some form of bone cancer? A cyst? Some sort of goiter? But eventually, my collarbone quandaries slipped into the back of my mind, into the far corners of the places that my thoughts rarely reach, and I forgot about it.

Until one day, I found it again. And the worrying came back, the wondering. I rubbed and rubbed the little bump in my collarbone until my skin turned raw and red. But like the time before, and so many after, my worries faded away with time and distractions.

I found that place again today, and the same panicky scared thoughts came back. They’re already fading now, as I write this and realize how many futile moments I’ve wasted thinking about something that has never proved to be worth worrying about.

If anything, it’s making me realize what a terrific worrier I am.

I mean, it’s not just my collarbone I worry about. It’s my life: my dreams, my future, my relationships, my family, my image, my writing, my happiness…

It’s exhausting.

I’ve never been very good at giving in and trusting God to work in my life. I wonder, I worry, that all this worrying may really be affecting the relationship I have with Him. Now, how silly is that, that I worry about worrying?

DAG.

“Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34)