Worrying

I am a worrier. I don't like to think of myself like this and once, when I overheard myself being publicly described as being a worrier, I was outraged and indignant. However, it is true. For example, I worry about my children's clothes. Do they have enough? Do they fit ok?Are they clean enough? Do they have enough room to store their clothes? What will happen as my boys outgrow the one chest of drawers they share and need a wardrobe? There isn't enough space in their room for a new, large piece of furniture and there are no more rooms in our house for them to have separate bedrooms and we can't afford an extension or loft conversion and then ... Well, I'm not sure what the 'then' leads to, but it lurks in the back of my mind, black and scary and threatening. I also worry that this show a woeful lack of faith in God, a God I do believe to be loving, generous and gracious, the provider of my needs. I remind myself of Philippians 4 verse 6: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God, but sometimes I'm not even sure what my requests are. A wardrobe? A bigger house? That everything will be ok? And I am reminded that the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. Like the weeds in my garden, these worries take root and flourish in empty spaces and I need to cultivate the good plants, the things I want to grow, those things that bring colour and fruit, and I need to dig out those weeds.