Until recently I
was imperiled with Fomo disease. As genes would have it, our youngest has also
contracted the disease as well as our not-so-friendly dog Kramer (non-genetic
of course).
If you have
never read up on this non-life threatening aliment, let me fill you in on the
most obvious symptoms. Fomo is an acronym for “fear of missing out.” Knowing
that there were conversations around me for which I couldn’t engage and
situations within a 3-mile radius to which I was not privy, was debilitating. I
could break out in hives just thinking about it.
Thankfully after
many conversations with God and some counsel from my wise husband, I was able
to overcome the disease. I can now let conversations around me continue without
my interrupting and asking a packing list of questions, and sleep in spite of
Face Book, Twitter, and Instagram entries clicking around the world wide web
waiting to burst from my computer. Growing out of that stage in my life has
been great.
We all go
through stages of maturity, although some faster than others. As parents we
have the ability to make ourselves sick by worrying about the things that could
go wrong in the tiny little lives of our children. Will they have friends? Will
they learn to do math? Do they fit in with the other kids? Will others
appreciate their talent for flipping their eyelids inside out? What if they
hate sports? What if no one plays with them? What if the other kids think their
lunch is gross? When will they be motivated, passionate about something, sold
out for Jesus, compassionate, kind to their siblings, less argumentative?
The answer is
simple, only God knows, but, maturity happens, people change, God works
miracles, changes hearts, softens behaviors, directs, guides, speaks wisdom, encourages,
protects, nudges, and a whole host of other great things. Pray for them,
counsel, lead by example, trust God, surrender, and relax. Part of being a
great parent means helping our kids to react correctly, let go of fears, mature,
conform, adjust, overcome failure, and celebrate successes.
Unfortunately I
have recently discovered another disease that I have. It’s called BNS, which is an acronym for
“biting nail syndrome.” I’m sure there is a cure out there somewhere, but for
now I will seek council from my husband, who never bites his nails.
Comments