Take your problems to the Lord. That had always been my policy. But as I pulled out of my driveway one morning, my biggest worry was…simply worrying.
My concerns were nothing out of the ordinary: a big project at work, a to-do list of household repairs, trying to keep in touch with family. There was nothing I could do about any of it at the moment. I was on my way to work.
And yet no matter how many times I told myself to stop, I couldn’t stop going over and over it all in my head.
“Lord,” I said as I checked the rearview mirror, “help me put things into their proper perspective.”
A big white Buick moved along at a snail’s pace in front of me. Where did he come from? I didn’t remember seeing him pull into my lane and he hadn’t been there a minute ago. I was sure I would have noticed. My mother used to drive the same kind of car.
It slowed down even more as we rolled to the intersection. It was almost as if the driver was deliberately waiting for the light to turn yellow—then red.
I tried to get a look at him when we came to a stop, sitting up in my seat and straining my eyes to see his rear window. But for some reason I couldn’t even see the back of his head. Instead I fixed my eyes on the license plate. It was framed with a message, one line on the top and another line on the bottom. I squinted to read it: “My worries…God’s got them.”
Message delivered. The driver and his Buick took the next turnoff, taking my worries with them.
