It was a cool March evening, just days before my second child was going to be born. I rocked my son, Jude, looking down into his flushed, feverish face. He was fighting croup, a sickness all of my siblings and I have been hospitalized for. Worry was threatening to overwhelm my mind and heart — all those familiar feelings of fear and “what ifs” bombarding me.
Casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ...2 Corinthians 10:5I sat tensely on the bed, trying to slow down my breathing. My heart was beating rapidly. My thoughts were racing. My hands were shaking. It was happening again. That overwhelming sense of doo