“WORRY WARTS”

My mother was the queen of worriers. If there were an Olympics of worrying, my mother would have a good dozen gold medals hanging around her neck. Her chin would hit the ground, trying to withstand the weight of all that gold.

If a young mother came into our home with a baby, my Mom would be quick to point out the six or seven ways the child might be killed within the walls of just the living room.

When I went alone, for the first time, to the 4^th of July parade, I received a ten minute lecture on the danger of stampeding horses. When I swam in Lake Michigan, I was always admonished, that were I to go out beyond the buoys I would drown. When I went sledding at Shoop Park, I was reminded of how many toboggan or sled riders had smashed their brains out against marauding monster trees.

If an August thunderstorm began to rumble on the horizon, it was  minutes before Mom had gathered her brood, and were hustling us down into the basement. My father would sit outside and smoke his pipe, and watch the storm roll in. His prediction that it would be sucked up by Lake Michigan, usually turned out to be true. However, Mom would tell my sister and I, that if Dad was dumb enough to sit out there, then he could enjoy his trip to Oz.

I am pretty sure that worry warts are genetic. They are the product of history and hysteria. It is all a matter of attitude and perspective. Worry warts do not look at the glass as half empty. They look at the glass as shattered, with one or two shards embedded in your foot.

The first time I had a planter’s wart removed from the sole of my foot, I was stunned to see that the medicine the doctor applied, created a quarter sized hole of a two quarter depth. The roots of a wart are deep. The roots of a worry wart go back several generations, and they   sprawl like a cobweb.

These roots sneak and slither in and about the soul. They weave and knot themselves in clusters around the human spirit. They can strangle the spirit. They can suck the life out of a worrier. They can drain one dry of any joy. These roots are like a network of miniature pythons. Lethal.

I recall Dr. Kaufman, my beloved podiatrist as a kid, explaining to me that the ointment he used was acidic, but that this acid knew when to stop. This acid only chowed down on the wart, not the healthy flesh. I was impressed with this mysterious salve.

There is no such balm for the worry wart. At least not one which will work quickly, or not a leave a scar. I have come to believe that worry warts can only be removed by faith. A surrender to a Higher Power.

This kind of faith needs to function like acid. It must cut through the many layers of ego which tell us we are in control, or in charge, or can do it all by ourselves. This is a faith which can calm down the chaotic spin of worries. A faith which is a still point in an ever turning world. Faith alone can offer us a focus and courage which has the power to reduce, even eliminate fear.

Fear is expecting the worst. Worry warts unconsciously pay homage to the worst that might be. They offer devotion to bad news. They worship negativity. They call it being realistic. They kneel before the chance that something terrible might happen. They wince and close their eyes and hope it will go away. They cower in safe corners, and never step outside the lines of their box. They say they are secure. They are in fact, just stagnant.

Faith is expecting the best. Faith erodes the roots of worry, building confidence in the power of Self and God. Worry is no match for the conviction that I will be fine, and that I will work this out. Worry must surrender to a faith which simply expects Grace. Worry gets pinned by a perspective of gratitude. Those who have strengthened their faith, head into each day with their eyes and hearts wide open. They are awake, aware, and fully alive. They smile and greet the dawn. They will mature and grow.

Still, fear is a formidable opponent to faith. Fear comes easily. Like weeds, our worries grow fast. The whole soul can be infested in a few days.

Faith takes time. Baby steps. Patience and perseverance. It is a discipline. It requires rigorous honesty, and a daily decision to turn it over to God – however we understand God.

I guess nowadays they can remove warts by freezing them or with lasers, or all kinds of other stuff. Worry warts still have only one antidote that I am aware of, and that is a robust faith. I know I could choose to sedate myself, but I also know that while I am doing so, the roots grow deeper until they hit blood. I will stick with faith.

I also know that I will always be a worry wart. It is like the glitter which is still in the rug years after the children made ornaments for the Christmas tree. I just know how to handle my worries a bit better now. I am smarter. Shrewder. I have added some fierce attachments to my fear cleaning vacuum cleaner of faith. Glitter beware!