The rodents in my brain

Well ladies, it's been a while since I've blessed the blogosphere with my wisdom. Maybe that's because I've had little to give. Even now I don't really know what I'm writing about. Story of my current life. Living in a daze, unsure of what I'm doing, stressed to breaking point. But what good can I do complaining here about it? How will that help any of you, or even me, since I will surely walk away not relieved for having vented, but ashamed for having done. I don't want to be a whiner, and frankly it's who I am becoming. So easy it is to pout alone with my computer, lamenting over the fact that I have a lot to do and that life is not going as easily as I would like. How incredibly pathetic, I often write as I journal about worry. The same verse plunges back into me like a knife to my uterus:"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" Fitting it should be in Matthew. My own Matthew seems to tell me this sort of thing on a daily basis.

And so instead of complaining about my woes, I want to question anxiety altogether. Why do we invite this stupid hamster running tirelessly on its wheel into our brain? It may pass the time to watch it, but he does little good at all and simply serves as an annoyance, a degradation of our true potential as the metal spokes of his wheel grate away the functioning bits of our minds. If nothing else, the rodent's constant movement stresses us out more (what if he gets hurt? what if he falls off? for pete's sake, why the crunk is he running?), and yet we ask him in, enticing him with a fat cake and a few carrots. Worry is an ignorant guest who poops all over our dreams.

And so I defer to what I have learned. To be honest, I don't know. I seldom know what I've learned about a situation until it's good and dead, over and through. Then, when I can reflect on the chaos, I can pinpoint what God was telling me, if only because I am no longer too distracted to notice his hand nudging me along. Currently, God has been replaced with an obnoxious rodent that may be the pet that every five-year-old wants to have, but is so not worth the extra work. Clearly this animal is destroying my brain considering I can't think of a better mental image than a hamster. My intelligence is going downhill. Stupid animal. It at least somewhat accurately portrays the unworthiness of what is replacing my God--my God who has created the infinite universe and the intricate cell.

Worry. How incredibly pathetic.

.e.l.i.s.a.