As I wrote this morning, I awoke overwhelmed with anxieties. My daughter injured her knee badly at the beginning of her Christmas break, and she had to have surgery last week. The surgery was pretty extensive, and she’ll need physical therapy. She’s also late returning to school to begin spring semester. I have been dreading calling Tricare to get everything sorted out because dealing with them has raised my blood pressure throughout this ordeal. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to get her back to school without missing a lot of work because I haven’t built up many sick days.
So this morning, encouraged by Psalm 37 and Matthew Henry’s words, I prayed about it, casting my cares on my Lord. And at lunch I came home, took a deep breath, and dialed Tricare to begin the dreaded task. And you know what? A very kind lady answered my call (after all of the “press 1 for mental health care, press 2 for….” hoops), and took time to go through all the notes on my daughter’s case and help us solve the dilemma of her needing care both here where I live and up at school. She expressed concern for our situation, and worked hard to make sure my daughter is taken care of.
Then my parents helped me to figure out a way to get Caroline to school and minimize my time off work.
As I drove back to work, I realized that God just showed me the lesson I wrote about this morning. I know it doesn’t always work out so smoothly, but today I felt like He was telling me, “See? I told you.”
And I don’t mind that one bit.