Guest Blog, by Stacey MacDonald.
Stacey MacDonald is a story coach, a writer and a speaker. She supports women to write their story, unlock their brain and share their tales with the world. I have worked in a group alongside Stacey, and worked with Stacey professionally, so I can say first hand she is a brilliant woman. She’s honest, supportive, so generous and kind, and gets to the heart of your soul when it comes to writing about your life. But I also know Stacey as a friend, which is why I was personally thrilled when she agreed to write a guest blog. It’s impossible to be alongside her without feeling her magic and seeing her skill, and she shows this effortlessly in the blog post.
Stacey is a woman of faith, and a lover of magnets and in her blog post she beautifully talks about worry, how it affects her, and how she finds solace in those times. Enjoy!
”Over the years I have been an avid collector of fridge magnets. You know the ones that you
pick up from the tourist attraction gift shop. Or are given when relatives come back from
their summer holidays. Up until early this year they all adorned the side of our black fridge
freezer. They hinted at a more exotic lifestyle than the simple reality.
A shiny new silver appliance now graces our kitchen. I’ve packed away the magnets into 2
old ice cream cartons for storage in a cupboard or on a shelve in the garage.
The boxes are still on the countertop in the utility room some 9 months later…I digress.
One clear plastic square used to shout the words Worry Less Pray More from its vantage
point high on the left-hand side of the freezer door.
A spirited accusation from a lofty position.
I think I bought this one myself in a moment of uncertainty. Putting the reminder front and
centre in a place that would catch my eye. This was a sure-fire way to never forget the
simple truth – right?
Well, that was the plan of course, but worry has this sneaky knack of surprising you when
you least expect it. It has this ability to sideswipe you and pull you off track.
Worry has me heading for the loo.
Simple fact – I know very clearly when I am worried. My stomach churns and gargles
uncontrollably and the waves of nausea roll in like waves in a force 8 gale. Sipping ice-cold
water helps, but there isn’t really anything I can do to make my insides calm down.
I’m guilty of pushing through physical pain – 25 years plus of a spinal condition has left its
weary mark on me. But I’m not a person who suffers from any tummy issues on a normal
day. When they hit me, I know there is more underlying than a greasy meal or a dodgy
prawn sandwich that I didn’t even eat!
Often the body acknowledges the worry long before my brain or emotions have had a
chance to catch up with what is going on. A first warning sign if you will. The physical
response to worry causes me to stop and figure it out. It offers me the chance to explore my
circumstances and situations, my actions, and my feelings.
Over the years, the place I chose to do this internal searching is the bathroom floor.
Necessity means I dare not move too far away from the facilities. There is something quite
calming about sitting against the bath, legs straightened out in front of me with my eyes
closed tight.
Taking deep breaths, I speak to God and ask Him to show me what is causing the worry.
Praying in the pause and listening for the whisper of an answer. I don’t know about you, but
I’m not in the habit of taking my phone with me on these occasions. So, the temptation to
scroll mindlessly through Tik Tok is instantly removed. I can shift the focus of my thoughts
onto straight talking with God.
I have a mantra that I repeat at times like this. Standing on the promises I know to be true.
Reinforcing the truth that is seared on my heart, but that appears to be wobbling in the
moment.
Your will. Your plan. Your time.
Over and over, I mutter the words, acknowledging that despite my best efforts, I am never in
control. I gratefully handed that privilege over nearly 30 years ago and wholeheartedly trust
the author of the universe to hold me safe from whatever befalls me.
I know that the bible tells me not to worry (see Matthew 6 v34 for one example) but in my
human weakness, I often do. Very recent enforced timeouts like this cause the verses I’ve
committed to memory to come flooding back into my head and bring about more prayers in
my day.
And that is no bad thing!
Perhaps I need to rake through those ice cream tubs before they get banished to the shed
and restore one magnet to the front of the new fridge so it can shout to me every day.
Worry less, Pray more Stacey”
