{"id":1209,"date":"2018-05-01T01:58:30","date_gmt":"2018-05-01T01:58:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katiepolski.com\/?p=1209"},"modified":"2020-05-20T14:13:14","modified_gmt":"2020-05-20T14:13:14","slug":"whatifs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/katiepolski.com\/?p=1209","title":{"rendered":"Whatifs"},"content":{"rendered":"

Growing up, we didn’t listen to the radio much. \u00a0When we drove around in the car with dad, he would regularly turn on one of three CDs: Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon, or an audio copy of Shel Silverstein’s poetry book,\u00a0There’s a Light on in the Attic. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

To this day I know every word in the two musicals, and I can recite almost every one of Silverstein’s poems. There is one poem in particular that has resonated with me more as an adult than it did as a child. \u00a0It’s called “Whatif:”<\/p>\n

Last night, while I lay thinking here,<\/em>
\nsome Whatifs crawled inside my ear<\/em>
\nand pranced and partied all night long<\/em>
\nand sang their same old Whatif song:<\/em>
\nWhatif I’m dumb in school?<\/em>
\nWhatif they’ve closed the swimming pool?<\/em>
\nWhatif I get beat up?<\/em>
\nWhatif there’s poison in my cup?<\/em>
\nWhatif I start to cry?<\/em>
\nWhatif I get sick and die?<\/em>
\nWhatif I flunk that test?<\/em>
\nWhatif green hair grows on my chest?<\/em>
\nWhatif nobody likes me?<\/em>
\nWhatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?<\/em>
\nWhatif I don’t grow talle?<\/em>
\nWhatif my head starts getting smaller?<\/em>
\nWhatif the fish won’t bite?<\/em>
\nWhatif the wind tears up my kite?<\/em>
\nWhatif they start a war?<\/em>
\nWhatif my parents get divorced?<\/em>
\nWhatif the bus is late?<\/em>
\nWhatif my teeth don’t grow in straight?<\/em>
\nWhatif I tear my pants?<\/em>
\nWhatif I never learn to dance?<\/em>
\nEverything seems well, and then<\/em>
\nthe nighttime Whatifs strike again!<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

My youngest had a visit from the Whatifs the other night: “But what if I can’t fall sleep when I go on the retreat? And also, what if I’m a faster runner than you when we do our race together?”\u00a0<\/em> Leaving me in the dust was a concern not because she was worried about where I’d be or where she would go but because “we will have to wait in a long line at the ice cream truck if you’re the last in the race.”\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

Whatever.<\/p>\n

And then my favorite Whatif: “Mom, I can’t sleep because what if there are aliens?”\u00a0 <\/em>To this I responded like most mothers when they are trying…<\/em>wishing….pleading….willing… to get their kid to bed. I said shortly: “There are no aliens. Go to bed.”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“But what if there are?” \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“There are not.”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“But my sister says there are, and what if they come down for us?”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“They won’t.”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“Mom. Be real. Are there aliens or not?”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“No aliens. Go to bed!”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“Ugh. I’m asking Siri.”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Because, of course, Siri is more reliable than mom.<\/p>\n

Unlike my youngest, who seems to have become friends with these Whatif bugs, they never really visited me as a kid. \u00a0As an adult, however, we have become well aquatinted: \u00a0What if I end up with the disease mom had? What if my kids fall away from their faith? What if I can’t finish the work for my class? What if I can’t balance work life and home life? <\/em>And on and on it goes. It’s often the case that when my head hits the pillow, the Whatif song begins, which eventually leads to anxiety and inevitably fear. And when fear settles in comfortably, it also welcomes in restlessness and irrationality.<\/p>\n

It really is amazing how fear can cause one to become senseless. Worries that seem so legitimate in the middle of the night can seem almost absurd when the sun comes up. It wasn’t long ago that I woke up in the night because of a strange sound:<\/p>\n

“Did you hear that?” \u00a0<\/em>I wondered if my husband was not happy that I woke him.<\/p>\n

“It’s the heater.” \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

“But w<\/em>hat if someone is in the house? \u00a0Or what if it’s one of the kids and they’re stumbling around needing help?” \u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

“Go to sleep.” \u00a0<\/em>It was evident that indeed he was not<\/em> happy that I woke him.<\/p>\n

But the Whatifs kept intensifying. \u00a0They were like waves rolling in – the fears would grow, and then I’d talk myself down as I came crashing back to reality. But then I’d find myself right back in the sea of Whatifs: W<\/em>hat if this\u00a0intruder found the kids? \u00a0What if the\u00a0kids are trying to call for me and can’t? \u00a0What if…what if…what if….!<\/i><\/p>\n

Naturally, I got up and checked each kid’s room armed and ready with my best Martial Art’s moves. But my moves weren’t necessary. I heard the noise again after being up for an hour or so.<\/p>\n

It was the heater.<\/p>\n

Even typing my actions reminds me of the absurdity of some of these night-time worries. And it reminds me of how patient my husband is. \u00a0And how loud our dumb heater is.<\/p>\n

I was reflecting on all the whatifs in life when reading Philippians 4 earlier this week. It’s amazing how insignificant these worries become when held up to this passage. And it’s not so surprising that the remedy to the whatif infestation is imbedded in these precious words penned by Paul:<\/p>\n

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. \u00a0Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. \u00a0The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your\u00a0requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” \u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

The Lord is at hand –\u00a0<\/em>He is near, He is close, He is with you…always. And so, do not be anxious. Instead,\u00a0offer every request to God –<\/em> tell Him what plagues you; tell Him your worst “what if.” There is nothing that is too great or too small to keep from God.<\/p>\n

And give him these worries with thanksgiving. \u00a0<\/em>Often anxiety comes from our own expectations of what we believe<\/em> should happen tomorrow or even a year from now. Anxiety clings to the self-centered hopes of what we think God owes us. \u00a0But when we shake off the expectations of how we believe our life should look, and instead open our hands to the One who lovingly gives what is absolutely best for us, then we can experience the peace which surpasses all understanding<\/em>. \u00a0<\/em>When our frenzied “whatifs” are replaced with “thank you” for all the ways God has and continues to provide, gratitude fills our heart, taking away room for anxious thoughts.<\/p>\n

The remedy we often want is this: \u00a0All is well because y<\/em>our imagined fears won’t ever come true. \u00a0<\/em>But this is not what God promises. \u00a0What God promises is that He is with us. \u00a0He promises that He will one day redeem all things. God promises that death – the worst thing that could come to us or a loved one –\u00a0 has already been defeated by His power. God promises His strength in order to cast our anxieties onto Him. He promises to lift our drooping hands and give us the ability to rest in His perfect peace. These are God’s beautiful and trustworthy promises to His children.<\/p>\n

We can’t silence the whatifs by reasoning with them but by giving them to Jesus through prayer, weaving in our gratitude for His great faithfulness to us and His unending love for us. \u00a0When I put my head on my pillow at night, these<\/em> are the songs I want to sing. These<\/em> are the truths I want to hear, leaving no room for whatifs…anywhere.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Growing up, we didn’t listen to the radio much. \u00a0When we drove around in the car with dad, he would … <\/p>\n

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