Ellie Mae Carter started her morning the way she’d been told to: with positivity.
She stood in front of her mirror, the pale morning light creeping across her small Marietta bedroom, brushing her hair and whispering the affirmations she’d memorized from a YouTube video. “Today is a fresh start. Good things are coming. I am calm. I am grateful. I am in control.”
Her voice trembled a little on that last part.
She forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach her tired eyes, and tilted her head at her reflection. “See?” she said softly. “You look fine, sugar. Nobody’s gonna know you cried in the shower yesterday.”
A sigh slipped out anyway.
The room smelled faintly of lavender detergent and old candle wax. She ran her fingers through her hair, debating whether to skip Starbucks to save the last twenty in her checking account. But she told herself it was okay — she deserved one little comfort, one small reminder that she was still living, not just surviving.
So she grabbed her purse, her laptop, and her fragile optimism, and stepped out into the Georgia heat.
The Starbucks on Whitlock Avenue was buzzing — the espresso machines hissing, cups clinking, and voices blending into the sound of a world that seemed fine without her. She took her place in line, inhaling that roasted coffee smell like it was medicine.
See? This is good. You’re fine. You belong here.
When it was her turn, she smiled. “Hi there, can I get an iced matcha latte with almond milk, please?”
“Sure thing. That’ll be $6.32.”
She swiped her Visa card. Declined.
The word glowed red on the little screen like a warning light. Her stomach twisted.
“Oh… that’s weird.” She forced a laugh that didn’t sound right. “Happens sometimes. The bank’s prob’ly updating or somethin’.”
She tried again. Declined.
A cough sounded behind her — sharp, impatient. Then another.
Her pulse picked up. She reached for her backup card, the one she promised she wouldn’t use anymore. Her fingers trembled as she pulled it from her wallet.
Please, Lord, not here. Not now. Not in front of people.
Swipe. Declined.
The silence behind her thickened. She could feel eyes on her back — judgmental, bored, indifferent — all at once.
A man in a business suit finally broke it. “Are you kidding me? Some of us have work to get to!” His voice was loud, brash, unmistakably New York.
Ellie froze. Heat crawled up her neck and burned behind her ears. She turned slightly, cheeks blazing. “I’m— I’m sorry,” she stammered.
He shook his head, scoffing. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, checking his Rolex.
She turned back toward the cashier, desperate to make the moment end. “Maybe your system’s just… I don’t know… being funny today?”
The barista gave her a polite, pitying smile. “It’s working fine, ma’am. Maybe just call your bank later?”
“Right. Yeah. Sure.” Her laugh cracked in half.
She could feel tears pressing behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall — not here, not in public. She gathered her things, nearly dropping her wallet, and stumbled toward the door. The bell jingled mockingly as she stepped outside into the thick, humid air.
She sat at one of the patio tables, heart pounding so loud it drowned out the traffic.
You tried to stay positive. You did everything right. And look at you now.
Her throat tightened. Her fingers dug into her knees.
Positive thinking doesn’t pay bills.
She tilted her head back and let the sunlight sting her eyes, whispering to no one, “Guess I should’ve manifested a miracle instead of a latte.”
Thanks for reading, friend.
— James Peter Moon (Korean Cowboy)
When the Storm Comes, Don’t Let the Wind of Worry Take the Helm — Steady Your Hands on Faith Instead
Philippians 4:6 (NIV) — “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”
It started like any other morning — lipstick, mirror pep talk, forced smile. “Good morning, sunshine,” she whispered, trying to convince her reflection that she was okay. But beneath the mascara and the caffeine, anxiety was already steering the day.
She thought control would keep her safe — that if she hurried enough, smiled enough, planned enough, she could outrun the storm building inside her chest. But storms don’t start outside of us; they start within us.
By the time she reached the counter, the wind had already shifted. One declined card. One awkward silence. One tiny moment — and suddenly, her whole world was sinking.
That’s how anxiety works. It doesn’t knock down the door — it creeps in quietly, convincing you that panic is just another form of productivity. But Paul saw through that lie. He wrote, “Do not be anxious about anything.” Not to shame the anxious heart, but to remind it that faith was meant to hold the wheel when fear takes over.
Anxiety Is a Thief That Pretends to Protect You
Matthew 6:27 (NIV) — “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”
Anxiety always shows up wearing a disguise. It whispers, “If you think about it long enough, you can fix it.” But it never protects you—it drains you. It tricks your mind into believing that worry equals control.
Ellie’s story shows what that looks like in real life—a moment that should have been simple (buying coffee) spiraling into shame, panic, and fear. That’s what anxiety does. It magnifies small moments until you forget the truth: you are not in control—but you were never meant to be.
Jesus knew the trap worry creates. That’s why He asked, “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” Worry feels productive—but it’s just a treadmill for the soul. You move fast, but you go nowhere. And all the while, peace stands at the door waiting for you to stop pacing long enough to open it.
God never asked you to hold the world together. He only asked you to hold on to Him.
🕊️ 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV) — “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” When fear tightens its grip, let go. Because the moment you surrender control, you’ll find you were never safer.
Anxiety Shrinks Your World Until You Can’t See Clearly Anymore
Proverbs 12:25 (NIV) — “Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.”
Anxiety doesn’t always roar — sometimes it just slowly closes in. Your world gets smaller, your confidence thinner, and your joy harder to reach. You start avoiding things you once enjoyed. You overthink texts, replay conversations, and brace for rejection before it ever happens.
That’s what Ellie felt standing outside that coffee shop, clutching her phone like it could somehow hold her together. The world around her didn’t change — but the world inside her did. Her thoughts built invisible walls. Her fears built a ceiling. Her heart built a cage.
Anxiety makes you live inside what-ifs instead of what’s real. It distorts your view until the whole world looks like a threat. But faith — even the smallest flicker of it — begins to widen the frame again. Faith reminds you that the sky is still open, the road is still ahead, and God is still here.
When Paul said, “Do not be anxious about anything,” he wasn’t denying how hard life can get. He was reminding us that fear blurs vision, but faith restores it. Every time you lift your eyes from the problem to the Presence, clarity returns.
🌤️ Psalm 34:4 (NIV) — “I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.” When fear closes in, seek God — and watch how wide your world becomes again.
Anxiety Costs More Than You Think
Matthew 11:28–29 (NIV) — “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
Anxiety is expensive — not in money, but in meaning. It doesn’t just take your peace; it drains your strength, your focus, your ability to breathe freely in the moment God gave you.
You can’t rest because your mind won’t stop spinning. You can’t pray because your thoughts keep interrupting the silence. You can’t trust because you’re waiting for the next thing to go wrong.
That’s what makes anxiety so costly — it keeps you busy fixing things that were never yours to fix. It convinces you that if you stop worrying, everything will fall apart. But Jesus says the opposite: “Come to Me, all you who are weary.” Not work harder. Not plan better. Not hold tighter. Just — come.
The invitation is simple, but it’s everything. God isn’t asking for your perfection; He’s asking for your permission — permission to carry what’s crushing you.
Because every anxious thought you try to manage alone becomes a weight you were never built to bear. And every moment you choose to surrender that weight, Heaven whispers, “Rest here for a while.”
💡 Isaiah 26:3 (NIV) — “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in You.” Peace isn’t found in control — it’s found in trust. And trust always begins where self-reliance ends.
Real-Life Application: When Anxiety Feels Like It’s Winning
Anxiety doesn’t make you weak—it just means you’ve been trying to carry too much for too long. God never meant for you to hold everything together on your own.
Here are a few simple, evidence-based ways to start letting go:
The Two-Minute Reset When anxiety starts to rise, pause and breathe deeply for two minutes. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth, and quietly pray, “God, I give You what I can’t control.” This slows your heart rate and helps your body exit panic mode.
Write It Down, Then Close It Create a small note titled “Things I Can’t Fix Right Now.” List your worries, then close it. This simple act signals to your mind that you’ve released control and allows your brain to rest.
Anchor Verse Reminder Choose one short verse—Philippians 4:6 or Psalm 46:10—and place it somewhere visible. When anxiety hits, read it aloud. Let truth interrupt the noise of fear.
🌤️ Closing Reflection: When the Wind Finally Calms
Anxiety may visit your heart, but it doesn’t get to set up camp there. It doesn’t define your worth, your faith, or your future — it just reveals where God is inviting you to trust Him deeper.
Peace isn’t found in pretending everything’s fine. It’s found in the quiet surrender that says, “Lord, I can’t, but You can.”
The same hands that calmed the sea are still steady enough to hold your storm. So breathe. Slow down. And remember — you were never meant to control the wind, only to trust the One who commands it.
John 14:27 (NIV) — “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
🙏 Closing Prayer
Father, teach me to pause when my thoughts race. Help me surrender what I can’t control, and rest in the truth that You are already working in what I can’t see. Quiet my anxious heart with Your peace that surpasses understanding. In Jesus’ name, amen.
🌙 Ellie Mae’s story doesn’t end here. The storm quieted for a moment, but another wave is coming—and next week, we’ll see what happens when God Himself interrupts the spiral. Stay tuned for Blog Post 1.2: “When God Interrupts the Spiral.”
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