Comfort for the Anxious Soul

Photo by Riley Morgan Young Photography

I wrote this visualization exercise for Cros as he worked through a hard season this summer. Some of it is specific to his situation, but I feel like it could be easily modified to your kiddo’s needs and likes.

I stumbled upon it recently and cried, because it’s clear that anything I’ve tried to teach my kids about the heart of God, I still need to learn (and believe) myself. I’ve already shed tears about the coming year as if I know even an ounce of what it will hold. But Jesus is bending down to look me in eyes today. To remind me who I am and whose I am. Praise God that we never age out of being His kids.

I hope this exercise is useful to you and yours as you brave the unknowns of the new year.

Deep breaths, friends. (And deep breaths, Mel.)

Everything is going to be okay.

——————

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and picture yourself walking in a big field. There’s grass and wildflowers and beautiful mountains up ahead. A soft breeze cools your skin as the setting sun paints the sky pink and purple and orange. 

(Can you picture it? What else do you see?)

—

But strangely, in the middle of that beautiful landscape is a big, ugly whiteboard. The kind you would find at school. It’s so out of place here, you walk up to it and see that, scribbled all over the whiteboard in big, black letters, is every fear you have about fifth grade:

1. What if the work is too hard?

2. What if my teachers are mean to me?

3. What if my friends teach me bad things?

4. What if I have to do a lot of presentations?

5. What if it’s too hard to fight peer pressure?

6. What if I feel lonely?

(Take a moment to fill in your own thoughts.)

—

The wind picks up. You start to shiver. And a sense of anxiety prickles your body as you fixate on the whiteboard.

(Where do you notice the stress in your body? Can you pinpoint where it hurts or feels tight? Take a moment to make space for that feeling.)

—

Then you hear something rustling behind you. You turn around and see Jesus walking up to you, smiling a really big smile. He runs up and gives you a huge hug, and immediately, your body and mind sense His deep love for you, and how proud He is to call you His son. You feel His love for you in your bones and your belly and your skin and your fingers and your toes. His love covers you like a soft blanket, and you know that it’s true—that His love for you is the truest thing about you. 

—

In His hand, Jesus is holding a big eraser. He takes your hand in His, and together you begin to erase every fear on the whiteboard 

until the words fade to dark gray… 

then to gray…

then to light gray…

Then they’re gone completely. 

But Jesus keeps erasing. He erases until the whiteboard itself disappears completely.

Now it’s just you and Jesus, standing in that beautiful field, watching the sun go down. 

—

He bends down to look at you with tears in His eyes, and He tells you He loves you so much and He will never leave you to carry your fears on your own. He will always be here to help you and hold you and remind you what is true. 

To remind you who you are and whose you are.

You take a deep breath, put a hand on your heart, and decide to believe Him. 

—

You turn around and see Mom and Dad running up behind you. We give you both big hugs (Jesus swirls us around and makes us laugh!), and then we light a little fire together. We roast marshmallows and eat s'mores and sing songs and ask Jesus silly questions as we look up at the stars. And Jesus smiles at us and kisses our foreheads and reminds us that His Father is worth trusting, even when we can’t see the whole picture.

And as you cuddle near the fire, you notice that your whole body warms with the feeling of peace and belonging and safety. You know with all your heart that you are deeply, deeply loved, and you decide to take this blanket of love with you wherever you go.

—

You inhale slowly from your belly and then breathe out as you count down from 5… 4… 3… 2… 1. 

Everything is going to be okay.