If scientists one day discover the “worry gene,” they will probably name it after me. I have always been a worry-wart; I came by it honestly. My grandmother could barely read the headlines in the local newspaper, but what she could read provided her with perpetual fuel for worry, anxiety, fear, and dread. 

Is my malady a result of environment or hereditary? I may never know. If I am not worrying, I miss it. Surely there is something to be concerned about! 

            Being a “good little girl,” I was often allowed to remain in the room during adult conversations. I listened as the problems of society and their personal concerns were discussed. At quite a young age, I learned the art of worrying and found it easy to develop the habit as the years passed.

As I matured into adulthood, my natural sensitivity or “radar” for the problems of others was actually heralded a positive trait. In today’s society, anyone who is caring and compassionate is appreciated. The problem with my caring was that I continually allowed people to transfer their heavy load onto my shoulders. I did not know what to do about their problems except “worry” and try to figure out a way to solve them. 

Being very active in my local church, my “ministry” of care and concern was needed. After all, church is where the lonely, hurting, and disillusioned turn, and there has to be someone there willing to minister to their needs. Of course, loving others, spreading cheer, and fulfilling the Biblical directive to “bear ye one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2) are worthwhile causes. A life dedicated to service is admirable.

The hurting hearts that I ministered to came away feeling that there was someone who really cared, and I did! It became a fulltime job sending cards to the lonely, listening to the woes of the hurting, and visiting the sick and dying in the hospital. Everyone said that what I did was so important, but I only felt overwhelmed by it all. 

Without realizing it, I was on the “fast track” to total burnout. I had read of caregiver fatigue, and I not only had all the symptoms, but was living with a chronic case of the dreaded ailment. I was always caring – caring too much. What I did was making a difference, but at what personal price? 

            I found myself lying awake at night, mulling over the concerns of those around me. I allowed their problems to become my own. Although the knowledge that I was helping others to cope with their difficulties was fulfilling, it was not healthy. The problem was not in the work that I was doing but in the way I was handling it.     

            As the temperature of my own life heated up with financial responsibilities, aging parents, health problems, and keeping up with all my ministry endeavors, I now had to fulfill the endless expectations of people. I was constantly on call. Hurting people often have high expectations of those who try to help them. I was “ministering,” but miserable.  What was the problem? I spent countless hours trying to figure out how I could be doing so much good and be so unhappy in the process. 

            Frustrated by my own attempts to make myself happy, I began to make my tendency to worry and fret a matter of prayer. I discovered that the more I prayed the less I worried. A peace would linger in my heart, long after my prayer time ended. Encouraged, I began laying the problems of others at His feet. No longer were their perpetual problems and impossible dilemmas such a heavy load for me to carry.  Now I felt free to really care, listen, love, and encourage them. 

            Before, when I felt totally depleted, I found myself avoiding the chronic complainers because I knew I had absolutely nothing left to give. I could not shoulder one more problem. Now, I can allow the hurting to vent, knowing that later I will simply tell it all to the Lord in prayer. He can do what I cannot. He loves them so much. Why not trust the hurting and discouraged to the One who can really help them?

            I have discovered that I am unable to do it all. I can not solve every problem. I do not have to have all the answers. My presence is not necessary every time someone sheds a tear. I can trust the needs of those I love to the Master Problem Solver. 

Turning worries into prayers is still a daily challenge for me. But I am getting better at it. Each day is not only a new opportunity to love others, but I have the privilege of placing them and their problems in God’s care. After all, if God can give me peace, He is capable of giving it to them as well!          

“And the peace of God which passeth all understanding, shall keep your

hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7).