December 22, 2024 
By M. Regina Cram
She sat on the top of the stairs with a furrowed brow. “Oh dear,” the child lamented sadly. “Oh dear.”
The child was just two years old – and enjoying one of her worrying spells. What could a two-year-old possibly have to worry about? The kid was still in diapers! It was our first inkling we were raising a worrier.
She worried about the rain. She worried when her brother visited the grandparents and when she didn’t understand a homework problem. She worried about untied shoelaces.
My husband and I are not worriers. Well, okay, Peter is a closet worrier. I came from a family that simply lacked the worry gene. We didn’t drop the child on her head, so where did she come from?
Fortunately, our beloved worrier was a happy child. It’s just that if she didn’t have something to worry about, she’d find something.
One evening, the family enjoyed a normal dinner conversation. A guest at the table turned to the children and inquired about their activities and interests.
“Soccer!” the middle child cried out. “I like to read,” said another. “I play basketball, and we all swim at Pine Brook in the summer. It’s a pool down the street,” explained our oldest.
‘I’m scared about the rock!” our sweet worrier, then seven, burst in without explanation.
“The rock?” our guest inquired with a chuckle.
“I’llneverbeabletopickuptherocksoI’llneverpassLevel7andI’llbetheonly kidinmyclasswhocan’tswiminthedeependandI’llhavetotakeswimminglessonsfortherestofmylife!” she lamented, all in one breath.
It was hard to keep a straight face.
The basketball player explained that to pass Level 7 swimming lessons, swimmers had to retrieve a rock from the bottom of the deep end of the pool. Our worrier had worked herself into a tizzy, even though she was only in Level 4. In fairness, the child was tiny and so buoyant that she bobbed in the water like a piece of Styrofoam. Getting to the bottom of the pool was not easy for her.
Never one to miss a good worry, however, the child continued. “What if I get partway to the bottom and can’t swim any further? What if I get to the bottom and run out of breath? What if I get down there but can’t find the rock? What if the rock is too heavy to pick up? What if I can only swim part way back up?”
“Then drop the rock!” her siblings hollered in exasperation.
I turned to my beloved worrier. “Sweetheart, what do you think will happen when you get to heaven?” I mused. “Do you think God will say, ‘Gee, I’m not sure I can let you in. I mean, did you ever get that rock in Level 7?’”
God tells us to build our lives upon the Rock. I don’t think that’s the one He had in mind.
“Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest . . . for I am gentle and lowly of heart, and you will find rest for your soul.” Matt 11:28-29
M. Regina Cram is a published author and parishioner of SS. Isidore and Maria Parish.
