Turn your worries over to Me. You are not to have them. They are extraneous to you. They have nothing to do with you. You pursue your worries, you repeat them over and over again, and you create angst in your heart and in the hearts around you. There is a vibration to worry, and it is not a pretty song.

Whatever is too much for you to feel at peace with, turn over to Me. It does not belong to you. It is not yours to carry around. It is yours to give to Me. I have a special trashcan for it. Your worries faze Me not. They do not accrue to Me. I put them where worries go, and that is in the trash heap. Worries are no good to you. They are worth nothing. They are wear and tear. With worry gone, what will cause angst in your heart? Worry is an idle pursuit. It is a weed that grows. Extricate it.

When you find another worry, as you are wont to do, as if you couldn’t live without a worry, send it to Me right away. I have instant disposal. Immediately, your worries fizzle into nothing. They do not exist. Worry is an aspect of the world that is clearly your own manufacture. Worry would not exist without your collaboration, without your insistence actually. Whatever befalls, your worry is an add-on. Worry is like gravy you pour on top of mashed potatoes. If mashed potatoes are your life, worry is a topper.

Worry is extraneous. It punishes you ahead of time. It is slow torture. It is the coup de grâce.

Worry is an interloper. It is a sneak thief. It tears your heart out. It proliferates itself.

Be like the beloved animals of the Earth who know better than to worry. They take life as it comes.

Be like the flowers that grow. They do not worry about when rain will come or a watering-can. The animals and flowers are wiser than you. They know that worry does not make a whit of difference except for the carnage it leaves in its wake. Worry feeds on your heart. All worry is misplaced, beloveds. It has no place in your life. It is not your salvation. It does not prevent. It pains. It is the enemy in the guise of a friend. Worry rings an alarm over and over again, presumably for your own good when it is to your detriment.

Worry is a cog. It is the flea in the ointment. It is a marauder.

Worry needles you. It upsets you. You think it is the situation that causes the worry, but worry is a habit you learned. Do not blame situations for your concern. Worry would steal the show. It would hammer you with itself. It would squeeze the joy out of you. It would plague you with doubts. It would take away your confidence. It would destroy your heart.

Worry lurks within you, ready to pounce at any moment. It just looks for a good excuse. There is nothing gentlemanly about worry. He is generous with himself all right, but he gives you pain. He takes away your peace of mind and would destroy it.

Be done with worry. Give it to Me, all of it. Let’s be done with worry once and for all. Let’s sentence worry to oblivion. Worry would keep you prisoner and never let you out on parole. It would keep you in solitary. It would keep you chained. Worry is a bully who finds an easy target.

Announce Me to worry, and be done with it. Truly, you do not need it. It benefits you not at all. It is a saboteur. Down with worry, up with God.