2014, almost over.

 

 I remember the close of 1999 and the approach of the new millennium. A lot of us were in a dither about Y2K.  Would our computers crash?  Would computer dependent entities like banks, utilities, transportation and communications come to a screeching halt? Some of the predicted possibilities were dire.     

Fearing the worst, my neighbors on the other side of the woods installed a mammoth gas tank and generator in their back yard. I still hear the monster kick on when power goes out, which isn't an infrequent occurrence in Oak Ridge.   

As Y2K approached, I didn't succumb to the costly worry of my neighbors, but I did buy a few cases of canned beans and gallon jugs of distilled water.  Other than that, I figured we could make do with candles and cooking over our charcoal grill. 

Thankfully, we were all worried for naught. No dire consequences; 1999 slipped into 2000 seemingly without a hitch.  And my husband, Bob, who had thought me slightly unhinged as he watched me hauling canned beans in the house and schlepping jugs of water down to the basement, courteously resisted saying, "I told you so."  

What he did say, however, is "Martha, you worry about the wrong things."  But that's an old refrain, something he's been telling me for years. In fact, I believe he said it just yesterday.  

Of course, worry about anything is the wrong thing, given that worry is, in and of itself, a waste of time and energy.  And oh!  What physical and mental energy worry does require, both while awake and asleep, even invading our dreams. 

 

"Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength."  Corrie Ten Boom

But I come from a long line of pessimists and worriers.  Is it genetic or learned?  Probably a little of both.  

And so, though I am intellectually aware of the uselessness of worry, I still expend an inordinate amount of time and energy worrying over this and that, profligately throwing time and energy away.  That alone, I suppose, is a 'sin,' a word which I once read, in its original usage, came from archery and simply meant 'to miss the mark.'  

 

"Missing the mark" strikes me as a good description of worry.  The mark is in the present.  Worry resides in the future or the past.  I don't like resolutions but this year, I'm going to try, if not resolve, to stop worrying so much. It's a real sin. 

 

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to all.  

Martha Maria 

P.S.  As always, I ask you to do me the favor of sharing Lily Cat Music for Kids and Dogwood Daughter with someone else today.  I'm an indie artist and I need your help.  Thank you.