I don’t worry about little things. Only big things. Like covering my bald spot and keeping it covered. Or answering a question at bible study correctly. Or keeping my fingernail polish from chipping. Or missing a deal on Etsy. Or honking (when and for how long) at rude drivers. Or forgetting names. Or questioning if the pastor is singling me out with his sermon. (And yes, he is.)

You know, big things.

I hope you get my point. Making a mountain out of a molehill is an area in which I excel, and before I know it, I’ve turned that little hump into Mt. Everest. So, you can imagine what I do with actual mountains… like every one of my family members. People on my bible study’s cancer list. Our country. Being bold in sharing the Gospel.

One person defined worry as “to gnaw.” This is what he said: “Like a dog with a bone, the worrier chews all day long, and sometimes it is a very old bone the worrier gnaws. The bone gets buried and dug up, buried and dug up, as the same old pain gets reworried ceaselessly.” I so get that.

If I give myself permission, I can allow those thoughts to turn into a runaway freight train, and my worries can consume my thoughts until they dominate my moods. That’s why I need to cling to Charlie Brown’s adage: “Worrying won’t stop the bad stuff from happening. It just stops you from enjoying the good.” So true. After all, we all are given X-amount of seconds to live. Why would we spend even one of those thinking of “the bad stuff” and not the “good”?

You and I are surrounded with blessings. Too many to count. This year, because of the giftedness of my step-daughter and daughter-in-law, I will be taking 100 Ziploc bags of lotions, shampoos, etc. to hand out to people who work at the dump here in Mexico. Today at church, three of the praise team members were introduced as coming to Christ through the ministry in the colonias where the poorest of poor live and where our church weekly goes to feed and tell them of Jesus. We learned of a musical conductor who brought instruments from the states and is starting an orchestra with the children in a colonia. Every time our pastor returns to the U.S., we were told, he returns with wheelchairs; to date, he has brought over 100 which he “loans” to the handicapped. Blessings upon blessings!

For 2020, I’m making a pact with myself to stop my runaway, worry-train dead in its tracks. I will focus on what is good and true and edifying. I will hand my concerns over to God and refuse to take them back, and I will remember what Corrie Ten Boom wrote in her book, Clippings From My Notebook: “Any concern too small to be turned into a prayer is too small to be made into a burden.” And that includes my bald spot.