“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
I'm over you. You exhaust me. I'm tired of your constant need for attention. You started to push your presence hard into by being over three years ago when I heard words like, "Prepare yourself to bury your son" and "I just don't know what to tell you....your child was just made wrong...". It was then you started whispering no, shouting, "NOTHING IS EVER GOING TO BE OKAY. Don't you see, the Dr.s don't even think your baby has a chance!" Well worry, you were wrong. My baby is a fighter and my God is sovereign. He doesn't make my life perfect because perfect is boring and perfect requires no dependence on Him. You, worry, are getting old and I'm breaking up with you. Don't tag along when the Drs give my son his 30th diagnosis. I don't need you when I open hospital bills or insurance denials. I've got a bigger, better friend. If I literally need to shout His name to scare you away, I will because I can't live with you anymore. You steal my joy and my peace. You lie and I've believed you for too long.
This life. This special, Dr filled, new and scary life is blessed. I don't want to go back and I will not roll over. I will stand tall and take what I was given and when you worry, slither in I will look at my special son's smile and remember that with great power comes great responsibility.
The momma of a superhero.