I struggled with worry before she turned sixteen. I'm a worrier. Not sure why, but I just am, so any little thing can set my mind into a frenzy. Whether it's questioning something I said or something I did or didn't do. Whether it's worrying about the past or the future or today. Give me anything to worry about, even a wisp of a worry, and I will claim it.
So I'm having to learn how to live in a home that includes a sixteen-year-old daughter with keys and car. I'm having to learn how to give her space to grow up and to be independent. I'm having to trust that she will find her way to her friend's house, in the dark, and that she will be back here the next day. Safe and sound.
I do turn things over to God. Often. Sometimes I pull the worry back from him and stew in it for a little while. But then I send it back to him on angels' wings. When I do this. When I send my worries to God and place them in His hands, I relax. My mind is free from worry. I find peace. I breathe.
And I continue to trust Him with her precious life and tell myself that everything will be okay. I have to, so I can breathe.