Camping out in the woods for a week was supposed to relax me.
But while my husband slept, I stared into the inky darkness and worried. One daughter battled rheumatoid arthritis; the other was recently divorced and trying to start up a business.
Life was so much simpler when the girls were young, I thought. If they couldn’t sleep at night I’d tell them to imagine themselves outdoors in a peaceful place with flowers blowing in the breeze.
Now, wide awake myself, I pulled the covers up to my neck. Wind whipped around our pop-up trailer, swaying it from side to side. Even vacation was stressful.
I sat up and anxiously peered out into the wild night. Lord, I’m so afraid. Strong winds could easily blow over this trailer.
How little control I had over anything—the weather, my daughters’ lives, even my ability to sleep through the night.
And just like that, the trailer stopped rocking. The wind turned calm. Trees stood still. I closed my eyes and pictured flowers gently blowing in the breeze, content with the assurance that the one who calmed the wind in the trees could also handle the worries in my life.
Maybe I wasn’t always completely in control, but I knew someone who was.
