My middle sister is what you might call a worrier. Maybe now a more reformed one though.  Oh she has worried about things ever since I came on the scene 18 months behind her.  I never really had to worry much as a kid, Di did enough for me too.  How great is it to delegate all your worrying to someone who is not only very, very good at it, but must enjoy it too.  I didn't want to take that joy from her, so I left her to worry.   The night before the first day of a new school year my sister and I, who shared the room without our eldest sister who recently had acquired her own room, are laying in bed.  It's that period of time where your mind is thinking of starting something new the next day and still finishing all the thoughts from the day you just lived.  Sleep is still a few minutes away.  It's September and we live in an old farm house with ancient cord strung pulley windows.  There is a small gap where flies sometimes got in.  That particular night laying there in the dark we hear the familiar buzz of a fly in the window.  I am not overly concerned about it.  I don't have visions of it crawling in my ear, nose or mouth during the night - but then again I don't worry much.  Di though is flicking on the light on a mission to get that fly before it attacks her in the night.  She spends the next 15 minutes or so trying to kill this fly, unable to rest if it is left alive buzzing in the window - worrying about where it might fly to if she falls asleep.  Growing up we spent a lot of time at our grandparents lake house.  It was at the lake that Di would invariably think if Jesus came back suddenly (for whatever reason Jesus seemed to only be slated to come back while we were at the lake and during a thunderstorm according to Di's worries) she somehow had lost her salvation and would go to hell.  Her worry of going to hell usually began on a "dark and stormy" night.  She would somehow doubt her ever-loving salvation and end up in tears.  Mostly every time during this repeated "lost salvation" event I would want to sock her.  Grandma would take Di to the bedroom where she would read scripture and pray to convince her that God loved her and she was still saved.   I don't if God is like a Kroger sale item - limit 2 or not:)  I mean maybe you can "lose" your salvation much like your car keys.  It would appear that Di was constantly losing her salvation and seemingly magically only during thunderstorms at the lake.  Conversely she got saved just as many times as she lost it.  Even as a kid I held to the Baptist version of God more so than not.  I mean, if He is God the only way we can get separated from Him is if we choose to walk away.  And even then, He still knows where we are.  God though never walks away from us.  I guess Diane, the worrier, didn't get that theological memo as a kid.  She was too busy worrying.      

1 comment:

  1. "Here's the deal" Big L...She was the middle child...need I say more? We middle children are the worriers, peacemakers, etc cause the youngest ones are carefree and spoiled and the oldest are too busy blazing the trail (so they say). It's lonely in the middle Big L, SO lonely....*sigh*