This was one of those "anxious" weekends, where the little issues of life log-jammed against a wall of "what will I do now?" I don't know about you, but I can carry a bit of that before I identify the nausea as "worry."
I'm buying new glasses. I want a new mattress. I want to renovate the Guest Room before the next guest gets here. All that costs money, and we know the Turtle doesn't like being reminded of her limited resources.
I have a book to publish. I have a rose bed to transplant from one suburb to another. I have Summer in The Swamp to contend with. I have no zucchini sprouts. I have a front room full of garage sale stuff that, God willing, will leave in two weeks, but what if it doesn't? I'm stepping over a houseguest for the next 9 days, who isn't really a problem, but he's a pea-sized difference in schedule that this Princess does notice, especially when he gets underfoot as I'm carrying boxes.
My dreams this weekend (when I was able to sleep) were endless pruning of rose bushes and searching for lumber and losing cats in warehouse-sized mazes. That's not good.
It's time to pray. Some people love to quote that "God helps those that help themselves" maxim, but it's a load of compost and, as far as I can tell, completely unBiblical. God helps those who cannot help themselves. None of us are adequate to any task without Him, except possibly rebellion. I need to bring the Big Guy in on the plan, and then hand it over to Him to solve as He has done time and again for me. All that worry time needs to become prayer and trust time.
Happy Monday, dear readers. Hand God your problems today. He's ready for them.