My son’s finger was bleeding — badly.
Heart-thumping, my mind tracked to the worst-case scenario. Oh great. He’ll need stitches now. How will I grab my stuff to leave this camping trip (with all the kids I’m supposed to be chaperoning) to get him to the hospital?
My mind was living miles ahead of where I was presently seated. That’s what worry does to a mind.
All the feelings of my insides demanded that I rush up to my son, tightly wrap my hands around his finger and compress it, maybe while internally freaking out a little… Instead, I sat on that dirty picnic table plank of wood with my lips zipped. I knew better than to rush in. Keep quiet, Kelly.
The leader, the skilled trip teacher, addressed my son, “Michael, you’ll be fine. Apply pressure and come back in 20 minutes if it is not better.”
I implored my heart to be still. My 13-year-old son rushed off to the woods or wherever 13-year-olds go when in the wild.
The teacher then asked me, “Kelly, was that hard for you as a mom? He’ll be fine.”
Ummm…YES!!! I wanted to scream. It was brutal.
“I have been working on believing the best, instead of immediately expecting the worst,” I told the man. “With my son, I saw myself rushing to the hospital before the worst even happened. But I am challenging myself now to believe he will be fine, instead of expecting everything will go horribly.”
It is easy for me to think things will go bad, to bunker down and to prepare for the worst, but God challenges me, because loving others is actually believing for their best.
“If I love people, I will always accept their problems. I will always believe them. I will always hope for what is best. I will always be patient in troubles.” (1 Cor. 13:7 Easy)
Love bears all things [regardless of what comes], believes all things [looking for the best in each one], hopes all things [remaining steadfast during difficult times], endures all things [without weakening]. (1 Cor. 13:7 AMPC)
I love my son by hoping the best for my son. I detract from my son by worrying, disaster planning, and by quickly jumping in.
I wonder, are any of you like me? Do you ever jump in early? Build story lines in your mind before they even happen? How might you more greatly love people as you trust God in those gaps? What would it look like to do this?
Twenty minutes passed. Thirty minutes. With no sight of my son. The teacher was right; his finger would be just fine.
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