What's your worry?

“I’m putting the car keys in my suitcase” I announced to Lori. “That way, I’ll be sure not to leave them somewhere during all our travels. Wouldn’t it be awful to get back to the airport in the middle of the night and not have our car keys? But don’t let me forget to take them out before checking the bags on the plane.”

I don’t exactly have a stellar record when it comes to keeping up with keys. I’ve managed to lock myself out of my car, my house, and my office---a veritable trifecta of possible places in which I have found myself scratching my head and asking, “Now, where DID I leave my keys?” And I didn’t want to see the grimace on Lori’s face in the airport parking lot if I had to ask her: “You wouldn’t happen to know where the car keys are, would you?”

To make the possible bad case scenario even worse, I had lost the spare keys to our car, leaving us with only the keys I had so carefully tucked away in my suitcase.

I relaxed as our plane departed. If everything went well and we made our connecting flight, we would arrive at our destination just about midnight.

“I hope we make our connecting flight on time,” Lori said as we took off. “I’d hate to get back any later than it’s already going to be.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I counseled her. “It’ll be all right.

About half way through our flight, I could sense her anxiety.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Our plane was 15 minutes late leaving, and we don’t have much time to make our connecting flight. What if we miss it and have to find another flight?”

“Don’t worry,” I calmly reassured her. “It makes no sense to fret because there’s not a thing we can do about it.”

I think I may have closed my little counseling session by paraphrasing Jesus’ words, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” with, “This flight has enough trouble of its own, so don’t worry about the next one.”

“Okay,” Lori agreed, taking a deep breath as she seemed to release her worry. “You’re right.”

Secretly I was congratulating myself on my words of wisdom.

Then, about a half an hour later, just as I was about to drop off to sleep, Lori gently placed her hand on mine and asked, “You did remember to get the car keys out of the suitcase before checking them on the plane, didn’t you?”

I jolted, almost knocking the water from my tray and scattering the peanuts down the aisle. Moisture suddenly popped out on my forehead, and I was wide-eyed awake.

Thank God I had the wherewithal NOT to ask, “Why didn’t you remind me?”

Now I was the one sitting in the worry seat.

What if the bags with my car keys were misplaced, put on the wrong plane, and ended up in Bismarck, North Dakota? What if they were lost forever? Who would drive in the middle of the night to pick us up? And even if they did, what would I do with no spare keys ANYWHERE?

I could hear that little imaginary voice whispering in my ear: “What an idiot.”

My feeling that the situation was hopeless was driven by the belief that there was nothing I could do but worry.

But, much of our battle with worry is won when we develop a plan. A wise deacon in one of my churches used to counsel, “Determine the worse that could happen. Then ask, ‘can I live with that?’ If you can, get a plan, and go from there.”

I could live with not having my car keys. I stopped hyperventilating, prayed, and came up with a plan to get us home without the keys.

Worry is fueled by indecision. It leaves us feeling helpless.  But having a plan of action gives us a sense of self control and engenders confidence.

As anthologist Terry Guillemets put it, “Worry ducks when purpose flies overhead.”

“Praise the Lord,” I said as I retrieved the keys from the suitcase.

“See,” Lori said, “Sufficient unto the day is the air flight thereof.”

All I could do was flash a big, worry-free smile her way.

And that said it all.