Tag Archives: Panic

It’s Not My Closet

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2019

I realized today that I’m taking on someone else’s angst. This will never do. I have my own busy schedule today with complications and double bookings and close friends who are struggling. I see the Ping-Pong-in-the-closet syndrome, my rising panic on my friend’s behalf.

I open the closet door and let all the balls spill out onto the floor, hundreds of little white balls bouncing and settling into corners. I’m not sure where to begin, where to step. “Overwhelmed,” is how my friend described it. Of course, I’ve been there, done that: I freeze or go into a frenetic pace to get everything done in time. I haven’t felt this angst in a very long time.

I want to help, but it’s not my closet this time or my Ping Pong balls. My friend is a master planner and organizer. She’ll figure it out. She just needs help getting all these balls picked up and into the right boxes.

Orange and white play balls spilling from an open storage closet

So what is keeping my anxious feeling at the forefront?

I see birds flying around inside my heart castle. If I try to catch them, they fly away, leaving poop everywhere. They’ve got to go.

I open a few windows, fling some bird seed outdoors, and shine a light in that direction. One bird’s name is Panic, but there’s another one whose name is Doubt. This one is harder to capture and release. Doubting what?

Doubt splats against the glass of a closed window. I clap a cardboard box over it and hand the box to Jesus, who delivers it to an angel waiting at the door.

I feel calmer now, ready to be a steady rock for my friend.

The Guardian

Posted on by under Emotions, Peace

Journal 2020

My schedule today is full, and I can feel the familiar and uncomfortable pressure in my stomach and tight shoulders. My head knows I have the exact number of minutes in a day required to accomplish God’s work, but part of me goes into panic, rushing, planning mode in order to keep on top of things—which, in the end, is quite counterproductive!

VISUAL: I have a Panic Guardian who’s sitting on the apex of my heart cathedral roof. “I have to stay on top of things!” he says.

How comical! No matter what logic I try to reason with him, he’s not budging. There’s a party going on below, inside where it’s cozy and warm, but no, he wants to stay up here where he can stay vigilant and survey the lay of the land. He doesn’t want to miss anything.

“Can you trust Me to watch out for you?” says Jesus. “What if I set an angel up here to keep guard?”

The Guardian ponders a moment. After all, angels have superpowers and can see farther and deeper than I can and know better the dangers out there. That thought seems to relax him a bit. “But be sure to come and get me, the moment you sense trouble!” he admonishes the guardian angel.

Angel just smiles. “That’s my job,” he replies, “and I don’t get as tired as you trying to balance on the narrow edge of a rooftop!”

My Panic Guardian goes inside the castle and surveys the feast and festivities, but he’s still on alert for any sign of trouble overhead. He can’t fully relax and participate. That’s his job, after all. I need an internal signal, he thinks. Something to alert me—like an alarm bell that will get my attention over the noise of the revelry.

And so Jesus hands him a special alarm—one that vibrates, noiseless, in his chest. How clever!

“Let’s test it!” he says to Jesus, who agrees and gives a signal to the angel to set off the alarm. Guardian flies up to the roof. “Where’s the danger?” he asks.

“There is none,” the angel replies. “You just asked to test it.”

“Oh, right.” With a quick glance around him, Guardian returns to the party, confident that he’ll be alerted when it’s time, but resting when all is calm.

The pressure dissipates, my shoulders relax, and I go on with my day in peace.

Photo by Alexander Tisko on Pexels.com

Spinning Mind

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2018

I feel panic rising this morning as my mind spins out of control with a long to-do list.

I see a large panel of spinning cogwheels. Little intruding gremlins toss sand and pebbles into the mix, and the whole mechanism grinds to a halt. What a greasy mess! When I invite Jesus into this space, we sit in front of the panel and stare. I know He could just power wash it with some sort of solution and get this thing up and running again quickly, but He just leans back, contemplating.

Not much I can do to make Him hurry, so I wait. He hands me a miniature cogwheel set to fiddle with while He observes the mess in front of us.

“You know,” He observes, “some of those wheels aren’t in a very efficient place, and others aren’t touching at all. May I help you fix it?”

“Of course!” I reply. He’s in charge, apparently, of the big panel in front of us. I’m just in charge of playing with the toy model. I give Him permission to disassemble whatever He needs, clean the cogwheels, and let Him put things back together however He wants. He’s a master at this.

Then I thank Him for allowing the sand and pebbles to interfere. Otherwise, I would have continued to inefficiently spin my wheels. Besides, my mind needed a rest, and this pause gives me an opportunity to sit still for a while. And I’m okay with that.

The Lesson

God is in charge of the big stuff—like my life and circumstances and people that enter and exit my calendar. I’m in charge of the small stuff—like dusting and answering emails and cooking for my family. If I get interrupted doing the small stuff, it’s because He has a job for me to do—something that impacts eternity. It’s not that cooking is unnecessary or unimportant (my attitude can turn it into a holy activity), but it doesn’t have eternal consequences if I choose to make a three-course meal vs. a simple crockpot dish.

The panic subsides, and I tick off the first item on my list.