Relax

I’m not sure if it’s laziness, or a strong sense of faith, but I’ve become very relaxed in my old age. (I’m going with the strong faith option because it sounds better.) I should be more stressed out than I am. But I’m not. I should be worried that my house won’t sell. But I’m not. I should be worried that I won’t find a new house within my price range. But I’m not. I should be worried that something will happen and my job opportunity will fall through and I’ll have moved across the country for no reason. But I’m not. I should be worried that Jackson and Brooklyn just ran inside, grabbed a box of baking soda, an empty bottle, and their bathing suits before running back out. But I’m . . . well, actually, I am a little worried about that one.


But really, I just don’t worry about stuff much anymore. I don’t spend hours praying for what I want because I’ve learned that I don’t have a clue about what I need. Once upon a time, I would have prayed and hoped and wished upon a star for this house I saw online. And then I’d go to Florida to check it out in person, but the day before I arrived, the owners would accept a bid put in by another buyer. Then I’d be devastated and I’d question God. “Why, oh why, God? This house was perfect for me! It was in my price range! It had all the features I was looking for in a house. After everything we’ve been through the past couple years, why couldn’t you let me have this house?! Why?”

But then you know what would happen? A couple weeks after I lost out on my dream house, I’d find another house that was bigger, newer, cheaper and had a brand new washer and dryer! And a horrible freak accident would cause a fire that burned out of control and engulfed that first house I’d so desperately wanted. That house about which I’d questioned God’s plan. Oh yeah, and that new house I got? Well, it sits next door to a fireman who’s a widower and just happens to love kids.

Okay, so maybe that’s oddly specific, but still, this is why I don’t worry about stuff.  Because every time I do, I end up feeling like an idiot, worrying for no reason. I firmly believe God’s got it under control and I have no clue, so why waste the time and energy worrying? He’s got a plan and it’s better than anything I could dream up anyway. And it may not make sense to me now. It may not make sense to me in a year. I may not even understand it in this lifetime. But that’s okay. For a basically lazy person like me, the let go and relax method works well. It’s all good. Things have a way of working out.

That said, wish me luck because I’m going to Florida to do some marathon house-hunting this week. Unfortunately, the MLS listings online don’t specify if the houses are located next to hot, single men. They really should. 

P.S.  Is it just me or does everyone else have that Frankie Goes to Hollywood song in their head too?  If you didn’t before, you probably do now after reading that last sentence, huh?  You’re welcome.