Family Matters – Are We There Yet?

“Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” You don’t have to be the cartoon parents, Marge and Homer Simpson, to be familiar with that pesky phrase, which erupts like Old Faithful from the mouth of every restless kid on a family road trip.
When my boys were little, those four words were repeated in round-robin fashion the minute the engine sounded. Lately, I have noticed an even greater attention deficit as I chauffeur the next generation of children. These youngsters’ everyday reality is plugged into lightning-fast techno connections. We could be right smack in the midst of a thrilling roller-coaster ride when one of them will say, “What ride are we going on next?” after a text message reveals something more exciting two piers down. Can we please just stay in the moment and not be so anxious to jump to the next thing?
My husband would be the first to remind me of my tendency to jump into the future when things happen in the present that are outside my scope of plans. I immediately expect, surmise, question, speculate, assume, and imagine all sorts of scenarios when the unexpected greets me. That is my grown-up way of saying, “Are we there yet?”
I read an interesting fable that illustrates the value of not only staying in the moment, but resisting the urge to figure out every twist and turn that comes my way.
“A farmer had only one horse. One day his horse ran away and all the neighbors came by to say they were sorry about the bad news and how his livelihood would now be hurt and he will probably lose his farm because he no longer has his horse to get the work done.
“The old man responded, ‘All I know is that my horse ran away.’
“A few days later the horse came back with 20 wild horses, and all the neighbors gathered to say what good fortune had befallen the farmer because he would now be rich and life would be good.
“The old man repeated, ‘All I know is that my horse has returned with other horses.’
“One day, one of the wild horses kicked his only son and broke both his legs. The neighbors gathered and said, ‘This is the worse news ever. Your only son cannot help you with all your many chores. You will probably lose your farm now for sure.’
“The old man said, ‘All I know is that my son broke his legs.’
“The country went to war, and every able-bodied young man was drafted to fight. The war was terrible and killed every young man, but the farmer’s son was spared because of his broken legs. The neighbors all-grieving came to him and said, ‘You are so fortunate because of your son’s injury he is still alive. You must be so happy.’
“The farmer responded, ‘All I know is that my son is alive.’”
You get the point. “All I know” is that anxiety and discontentment have robbed me of living in the present and enjoying the moment. When I try to figure out why certain things happen to me and allow my mind to run off to Assumption Road, what I am really doing is undermining God’s role and plan for my life. Not to mention that I can cite a zillion outcomes that I worried about in the past that never occurred—all left unrealized in Worry Wasteland.
Being anxious never changed a single thing in my life, and it is no wonder that in the original Greek the word for “anxiety” means “double-minded.” It’s exhausting enough managing one mind (reality), let alone trying to manage the fantastical events of my imagined future.
So I am going to begin replacing my “are we there yet” attitude with a better mindset. I want to follow the One who had every reason in the world to worry; instead, while being ridiculed, persecuted, and pursued for His very life, Jesus taught his apostles to: “Be anxious for nothing but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” (Phil. 4:6)
Now those are words worth repeating.