The song is cute, right? There are even hand motions. It's so sweet watching little ones sing about a spider... actually- why is this cute?
I was in Guatemala. It was 1998, and I was with my youth group in a town called La Libertad. It was gorgeous. Literally gorgeous.
Our days were packed. The evenings were also packed. But, when we weren't out busy doing what we were doing we were staying in a beautiful home. All of the rooms opened out onto a large patio which overlooked the mountain and hillside areas. (Did I mention gorgeous?)
There was a rooster situation, which resulted in a song. Which I still know. (Another story.) Anyways. We were sleeping on these mattresses upstairs. Totally bundled up, sweatshirt/pants, blankets (pretty sure they were moldy- can blankets mold? or mildew-whatever- but they were warm!)
One morning, early I was startled to hear the word, "Tarantula! Tarantula!" being yelled over and over. Being a committed sleeper, I did what one would expect. I turned over and went back to sleep.
A bit later, everyone was talking about a tarantula had gone rogue and was running around on the porch. "Stephanie! You were sleeping on the ground! The tarantula could have gotten you! Didn't you hear us yelling?"
"Well, yeah. But I wasn't worried." The truth is, I was not. Maybe it was because I was sleeping, but I really think it was more than that. I knew that the people that were there had the situation handled. And they did. I was not needed. Nor was my worry. And there's the rub.
The worry. (Goodness, anyone sense a theme?)
It's like a disease that debilitates. It cripples. Worry transforms into many things, usually uglier, bigger and nastier than a tarantula. It's hideous.
Is anyone else tired of worry? Because I am.
So tonight, I'm going to close up my laptop. Have a little chat with the One who knows me best. Again. About this worry thing. And then tomorrow (actually today!) I'm going to throw off my (not moldy or mildew-y, and in fact a lovely yellow) blankets and not worry about the day. I'm not going to worry about my job. I'm not going to worry about the snow, or heaters or cars not working. I'm gonna worry about nothing. The tarantula, I mean the worry that I have been putting in my bag every morning as I head out the door to work (you know) I'm gonna leave it behind.
God's got this.
Stay warm! Shine bright!
I was in Guatemala. It was 1998, and I was with my youth group in a town called La Libertad. It was gorgeous. Literally gorgeous.
Our days were packed. The evenings were also packed. But, when we weren't out busy doing what we were doing we were staying in a beautiful home. All of the rooms opened out onto a large patio which overlooked the mountain and hillside areas. (Did I mention gorgeous?)
There was a rooster situation, which resulted in a song. Which I still know. (Another story.) Anyways. We were sleeping on these mattresses upstairs. Totally bundled up, sweatshirt/pants, blankets (pretty sure they were moldy- can blankets mold? or mildew-whatever- but they were warm!)
One morning, early I was startled to hear the word, "Tarantula! Tarantula!" being yelled over and over. Being a committed sleeper, I did what one would expect. I turned over and went back to sleep.
A bit later, everyone was talking about a tarantula had gone rogue and was running around on the porch. "Stephanie! You were sleeping on the ground! The tarantula could have gotten you! Didn't you hear us yelling?"
"Well, yeah. But I wasn't worried." The truth is, I was not. Maybe it was because I was sleeping, but I really think it was more than that. I knew that the people that were there had the situation handled. And they did. I was not needed. Nor was my worry. And there's the rub.
The worry. (Goodness, anyone sense a theme?)
It's like a disease that debilitates. It cripples. Worry transforms into many things, usually uglier, bigger and nastier than a tarantula. It's hideous.
Is anyone else tired of worry? Because I am.
So tonight, I'm going to close up my laptop. Have a little chat with the One who knows me best. Again. About this worry thing. And then tomorrow (actually today!) I'm going to throw off my (not moldy or mildew-y, and in fact a lovely yellow) blankets and not worry about the day. I'm not going to worry about my job. I'm not going to worry about the snow, or heaters or cars not working. I'm gonna worry about nothing. The tarantula, I mean the worry that I have been putting in my bag every morning as I head out the door to work (you know) I'm gonna leave it behind.
God's got this.
Stay warm! Shine bright!
3 comments:
Right on, Loqua!
Right on, Loqua!
Right on, Loqua!
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