That's Entertainment

I’ve gotten involved in something new. (That happens sometimes.) After eight­plus years of doing everything but the electrical work for an electrical contracting company, I am now tackling the same job description for a plumbing and HVAC (that’s heating, ventilation, and air conditioning, in case you wondered) company. A new one­which is what that electrical contracting company was, eight­plus years ago.

Some things are the same. Taxes and worker’s compensation accounts, to name two.

A lot of things are different. The guys in charge have different personalities, preferences, and styles. The red tape is considerably different (and you thought if the tape was red, it was all the same?) and so is the customer base. (An established base vs. a non­existent base. those are a little different.)

So I’ve been a little stressed at times lately, and I’ve also sometimes felt almost a little queasy. I don’t like that. Sure, it’s just a feeling, but usually it means something is a little off.

Tonight I talked to the Lord about it. What’s the problem? Why am I feeling queasy? What’s wrong? And I may not have the full answer, but I have something.

I have taken on too much responsibility. Not in reality, but in my mind. I’ve assumed responsibility for making the company a success. For making sure it has business. I’ve taken on some pretty heavy burdens.

What I need to do is have some fun with this.

That’s when I thought about babies. You know, they can be rather fun. If you overlook an infant’s ugliness, they’re rather cute, in a way. Cuddly, helpless, usually sweet. What could be more delightful?

How many mothers do you know who ruin the whole thing by freaking out? They’re so afraid something will go wrong, and working so hard to make sure everything goes right, they have no time or energy left with which to just have fun with the baby.

And no, don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting neglecting the baby or misusing it. It is, however, perfectly possible to take good care of a baby without completely stressing out. The baby needs only to be fed and changed and loved. How difficult can it be? Not very. It isn’t GOD who made being a mom difficult. It’s MOMs who make being a mom difficult.

We forget that the same God who gave conception brings about the delivery. The same God who first breathes life into those tiny lungs has laid out an entire path that will eventually lead to the grave. We steal our own joy with our anxiety.

New beginnings of any and every type eliminate the need for amusement parks. They are scary and delightful and a total adrenaline rush-if we let them be. If we don’t destroy them with our anxiety.

What God started, He will finish. (And if He didn’t start it, you won’t be able to finish it.)

So what exactly am I anxious about?

I think I’ve forgotten.

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