Dear friend,
In the multitude of my thoughts within me, your comforts delight my soul.
I want to name something instead of trying to fix it tonight.
Last week I sat in my car in the hospital parking lot for eleven minutes before I could make myself walk in. Nothing had happened. Nothing was wrong. My chest just decided otherwise and my brain went along with it, listing every bad outcome like it was doing me a favor. I didn't pray my way out of it. I didn't think my way out of it either. I just sat there until my hands stopped feeling like they belonged to someone else.
That's what's sitting with me this week thinking about how being anxious shows up. Not as one clear fear you can name and argue with. More like weather that moves in without asking. I'm not going to tell you three steps out of it, because I don't have three steps. I have eleven minutes in a parking lot and a steering wheel I gripped too hard.
I keep noticing how Psalm 94 talks about the multitude of thoughts inside a person, like that was just an ordinary condition worth writing down. Not a failure. A condition.
What does it feel like in your body when it starts?
A prayer
God, You know exactly where this settles in her today. She doesn't need to explain it to You first. Stay near the part of her that feels like it's bracing for something. Amen.