That’s a question that I think about a lot. And I’m really thinking about it today for several reasons. But seeing how I’ve got all of 5 minutes to blog, I can’t list those reasons. Everyone keeps telling me that I will be less stressed once we get our own place. And I do think that’s true. 7 months of living with family (even as wonderful of family members as we have) is not easy. I’m so sick of loading the car, unloading the car, searching for this, asking “Where’s my ______?!” I want to cook, clean, be a slob, be neat, decorate, grow some plants, and settle in. But then I think even if we do settle, I’ll still worry about this or that. Worry is something I’ve fought for ages. It won’t go away because we settle. Then I’ll worry about how we’ll pay our mortgage. Or if Obama gets in will we be paying taxes through the nose? If he becomes president, do we really want to have children? Or should we just pack it up and move out of the country? Yes, I really feel that way about Obama. I completely dislike the values that the man represents, and I lay in bed at night and worry about him becoming president. So needless to say, my worrying won’t stop.

So lately, I’ve tried to make this habit of reciting all the wonderful songs, scriptures, hymns, etc. that I have hidden in my head and heart. I lay in bed and pray about our country, our presidential race, our housing situation, Mark’s greencard process, my job, our desire to have kids, etc. I pray a lot. And what’s amazing to me is that it’s getting a lot easier to replace worrying with praying. When I’m stressed and tempted to hold my breath (Mark’s says I quit breathing when stressed), I stop and pray instead. And this should be Christianity 101 or Faith 101. It was like this when I was a kid. It was so easy to trust God when I was little. Yet now I’m realizing that it’s getting easier. It’s becoming more like it was when I was a kid. It takes a lot of focus and concentration on my part. But it’s getting easier. And for that I’m thrilled. 🙂 I feel like I’m making some progress . . .

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