Look what I made today in Sunday school, Mommy!” My daughter excitedly ran toward me as we stood in the church lobby. She stretched out her little hand to reveal her latest creation and said, “It’s a worry jar and I want you to have it.” I peered down at the tiny jar with tissue paper glued all over it and did all of the appropriate oohing and aahing before replying, “Thank you so much, sweetie, I just love it!” As I turned to show it off to the rest of the family, I said to myself, “I think I’m going to need a bigger worry jar than this!”
You see, for most of my life worrying has been akin to breathing for me. My husband used to say that if I could get paid to worry we would be millionaires! And, unfortunately, my children have picked up on this particular struggle in my life. So much so that I’m pretty sure my daughter knew I needed this worry jar more than she did.
When we got home from church, my sweet girl went right into our room and placed the worry jar on my nightstand. “So you’ll see it every day, Mommy,” she said. And I did. I saw it every day. For the first few days I couldn’t stop myself from feeling that it was almost mocking me. Reminding me that all my worries, my fears, and my concerns would never fit within its small space.
What about my deep, almost paralyzing, fear that something would happen to my husband or my children? That’s way too big for such a tiny jar! What about that fractured relationship that seems so far beyond repair? It needs twenty jars! What about those moments when I’m almost certain I am falling short in my role as a mom? That needs an entire worry room—not just a jar! One day I walked into the bedroom and I noticed that the worry jar had been filled with some of the rose petals my daughter had collected off the ground during our walk. After being cooped up all winter, we were embracing the beautiful spring days. I said loudly, “Now, I wonder how on earth these rose petals got here!” And she came into the room, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought your jar needed filling up, Mommy,” she said.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6–7
But I knew the truth. My jar was already filled up. In fact, it was overflowing with worry. Worry had become my way of thinking that somehow I had control over everything in my life. And this false sense of control meant that I didn’t need to turn to the One who really is in control.
As my daughter left the room, I noticed she had turned the jar around. You see, that tissue paper was only glued to one side. The other side had a little scrap of paper, lovingly cut out by little six-year-old fingers. I read the words written on that scrap of paper, intended to be part of a Sunday school lesson for first graders, as though I was reading them for the very first time. In that moment, I realized the truth about my worry jar. It doesn’t need to be any bigger. In fact, I don’t need one at all. This is the message on the other side of the jar:
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? (Matthew 6:25–27)
And the answer is no. No, I can’t add an hour to my life by worrying. No, I can’t protect my family from everything bad in the world. No, I can’t fix that fractured relationship all on my own. No, I can’t let my fear that I’m not being the best mom in the whole world paralyze me in my parenting. But what I can do is put my trust and my hope in the One who not only made the heavens and the earth but also knows the number of hairs on my head. Does putting my trust in Him mean that nothing bad will ever happen or that all of my relationships will be perfect or that I will seem like the mother of the year to all of my friends and family? Of course not. What it does mean is that He will always be with me. He’ll be with me in the glorious mountain-top moments of my life, and He’ll be with me in the painful valley moments.
And what about my worry jar? Well, just because I realized I don’t really need it doesn’t mean I won’t keep it. After all, it was given to me by my favorite girl in the whole world. I still keep it on my nightstand. But now I see a jar with no lid to hold in those worries while they swirl and simmer. Now I see freedom.
New clay pots made to look old and weathered might be the only time we support the speeding up of the aging process.
SUPPLIES
_ clay pot
_ 3 foam brushes
_ paper towels
_ bowl of water
_ craft paint in white
_ blue and green colors
(use outdoor craft paint if you are planning on keeping these pots outside)
1 Using a foam brush, lightly cover the entire clay pot in white paint. Allow to dry for about one minute.
2 Take a paper towel, dampen it with water, and then begin rubbing it on the clay pot to remove some of the paint here and there.
3 Work your way around the pot until you have the look you desire. Allow it to completely dry.
4 Once dry, repeat the process with the blue and green paints.
5 For a more authentic look, go a bit heavier with the blue and green paint around the rim and the bottom of the pot, where patina would naturally build if exposed to the elements, and don’t wipe too much of those colors off in that area.
6 Allow to dry and enjoy with your favorite plants or herbs.
