Worry and Love

Today is my Mom’s birthday. A couple of weeks ago my Dad celebrated his birthday. In four months, they will celebrate 60 years of marriage together. They are grower older. We all grow older. They, though, are beginning to show age on their faces and in their steps now more than ever.

My mom is the best worrier I know. She worries about me even now and she worries about my brother and my sister and their spouses and the grandkids and the great grandkids and the sisters and the brothers and the in-laws and the neighbors and on and on and on. Growing up she worried about my school work, my driving, my bike riding, being out with friends, traveling, going off to college, finding a job, finding a spouse. My dad is not a major worrier like mom although I know he has done his fair share of worrying. He tends to let things simmer inside hoping the answer will somehow bubble to the top.

Lucky me, I do both.

Now, I worry about Mom and Dad. I worry that they take the right medicine at the right time. I worry that they eat right. I worry when they leave the house and drive somewhere. I worry they sleep too much. I worry I don’t visit them enough. I worry when I mention my concerns about these things to them and they just blow them off like there’s nothing at all to worry about, so I let it brew inside, hoping the solution to all the worrying will magically appear.

It never does though.

Later today I will call Mom and wish her a happy birthday. We’ll talk and I’ll try to read the worry in her words over things I know she has tumbled over in her mind time after time. I’ll tell her not to worry about things she can’t change. She worries about those she loves making choices she doesn’t agree with or understand. I try to tell her that these people are adults and can make their own choices and by doing so have to live with the consequences of what they decide. Naturally, that only causes her more worry. She’ll worry about my sinus headache or whether or not I wear a jacket in the cool morning air. I know all that worry she and Dad do over all of us stems from love.

And when I hang up and wish her a good birthday I’ll wonder if she can read the worry I have for her and Dad in my own voice because I do love them so much.

Matthew 6:33-34