Skip to main content

No Worry Anymore

I don’t want to worry anymore.


Don’t want to fear
the phone call,
the bill, arriving unexpected
by mail,
the month left
at the end
of the money,
the unseen predator,
the crisis not mine,
but mine to fix
or forever wonder
if my two mites
could have made the difference
after all, at last,
the natural disaster,
the unnatural disaster
caused by consequences
unintended,
unforeseen.


I don’t want to worry
about any
thing, any
more.


And so, I give all
of this worry unworthy
to You
Who sees only and all real
threats to me coming,
no surprise,
no problem,
only gracious provision
preprepared.

* * *

I wrote this post for the Five-Minute Friday Link-Up. Click here to read other writers' posts on today's prompt: anymore.

Photo by Artem Kovalev on Unsplash

Labels:

Comments

  1. Great-Granny GrandmaMay 30, 2025 at 6:35 PM

    Love this, and the reminder to give it all to the Lord.
    It's what I have been trying to do.

    ReplyDelete
  2. dawnJune 5, 2025 at 6:08 AM

    It is the only way. Yet worry we do and we stress ourselves needlessly in our pride. Jesus tells us over and over NOT to worry, but to trust Him in ALL things.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Noise

Clutter is noise to the eye A cacophony of chaos That distracts Forces lids shut Like hands over ears Desperate for focus nowhere Yet everywhere to be found Too many choices Eyes need a place to land Clean up clutter Clear view Clear mind Find peace Breathe deep See clear
8 comments
Read more

A New Box of Bees: My Close Encounter

My son is a novice beekeeper. He trained for several months under a mentor. Then in May, he purchased his first box of bees, which has already grown into three boxes of bees, two in the process of raising their own queens. Justin and his family were able to taste the honeycomb and the nectar within just a few weeks of receiving their hive. This past weekend, my granddaughter proudly presented me with a jar of honey she and my son collected. Locally grown has taken on a whole new meaning: honey from hives thriving in my son’s backyard. Last month, my son and granddaughter took me to meet the bees for the first time. I had already seen pictures of my three-year-old grandson letting bees walk on his hand. My son had talked of petting them and assured me the bees had to be seriously provoked to sting. After all, bees want to make honey. If they sting someone, they die. Armed with this knowledge and led by my son, I approached the hives with what felt like a surprising amount of confidenc...
Post a Comment
Read more