It’s early morning, outside the office window where I do my writing. The birds are singing full throttle, obviously not worried about the day ahead of them or of catching any viruses.
My mind flips to a little poem I memorized in school of the robin talking with a sparrow about all the fretful human beings rushing about and worrying, and if perhaps they don’t have a Heavenly Father watching over them. Ouch. Did they just say that I’m acting like I have no Heavenly Father when I worry? Though I don’t want to be a worrywart, I don’t have any brag stories of not being tempted with this crippling perspective. Then I wonder, “How much has worry really boosted my life? Really now, I’m not going to worry about a thing anymore,” I resolve once more. But a few days later, I’m thinking of baby dear and start wandering the paths of ‘what ifs’ again. I start fretting that the baby just may be born preterm or other dreadful things that can happen. In moments, I find my spark for life dissolving and without meaning to, I used an impatient tone of voice to a child without meaning to. What happened to my grand plans of being the kind gentle mother I’ve idealized all my life? Why do I feel a bit uptight when I think of Baby? Then it dawns on me — it’s the monster of worry gnawing within me. But surely not, because I wasn’t going to worry anymore. Now what? Try harder?
And then, as I seek a quiet spot in a house filled with childish chatter, I fall on my knees, telling my Lord and Savior that I am sorry for having failed in trusting my own efforts not to worry. I tell him all about my worries and ask if He would like to carry them for me. In some explainable way, I begin feeling lighter as I rise from my knees and purposefully make the choice of trusting my Daddy in heaven; after all, he created me and understands the deepest yearnings of my heart.
As I return to the dishes I’ve been trying to wash all forenoon, Julia and I are soon busy planning our next camping trip. She purposes that this time she can make a list of all the things we can take along such as bikes, special snacks she could help make, and her beloved little puppy, which I’ll be filling you in on later. Austin listens in on our conversations and has more ideas of what he’d like to take along and offers to help write things on the list as well. Then I notice the three little ones playing nicely and actually taking turns with their loader and tractor on their own. What happened? How can things change so much in the home when Mama has a song in her heart? I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’ve tried to figure it out, but can’t fathom it all. I do know this, with God’s hand leading mine things simply change. My utmost longing is to walk in simple trust, not tugging this way and that like an anxious child, pulling on my hand with all her might trying to convince me that we HAVE to go outside, right now, when I know that there are bees swarming around the swing set where they are wanting to play. How many times have I gotten ‘stung’ because I didn’t trust my heavenly Father’s all-knowing judgment?
Ah, then we all know how COVID-19 has taken the lives of many, left many more miserable with sickness, and millions off work, and leaves all of us wondering how all this will affect our country in years to come. How can we process it all without worrying? Really, how? No doubt, since we are all affected differently, we won’t be facing same fears. There’s only one source I know of that will be able to make a lasting difference. Thankfully the source happens to be my best friend. And you know, the Bible says that He knows we are dust and He remembers our frame; obviously He knew how intense the struggle would be. Praise His name; he is right there to bless every cry in faith.
You know, yesterday I heard of a doctor that made the statement that those who worry about getting the virus are much more susceptible to it. Hmm… could worry also do something to something to our immune system, or perhaps God simply blesses faith in ways we hardly think about? Thankfully God does also provide many things that help keep us from catching dangerous illnesses. You know that reminds me of my father-in-law in Danville, Ohio, who I have come to deeply appreciate. He made a remark on their last trip to Illinois that stuck like glue. Flu bugs were swarming all around us. He made the simple remark, “I’m not afraid of getting sick, but if I do get sick, that’s okay.” Truth be told, he is probably the one who gets sick the least and I have a feeling his positive outlook is not only on positive experiences, but simple trust in the One who blesses his serene outlook. Now for winding up with a good recipe. I’ll share Daniel’s latest crush, fruit cobbler.
Daniel’s Favorite Fruit Cobbler
3 cups pie filling such as blueberry, cherry, raspberry, or peach
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup butter, melted
1 cup flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup milk
Pour filling in the bottom of an 8-inch pie pan. Mix crust ingredients in order given and spread on top. Next mix 2 tablespoons sugar, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, 1/4 teaspoon salt and sprinkle on top. Bake at 350 for 30 to 40 minutes or until crust is done. Delicious warm with ice cream, or if you ask our family, use fresh cow milk!
Gloria Yoder is an Amish mom, writer, and homemaker in rural Illinois. The Yoders travel primarily by horse-drawn buggy and live next to the settlement’s one-room school-house. Readers can write to Gloria at 10510 E. 350th Ave., Flat Rock, IL 62427