For so many years I worried that I don’t worry enough.

“Aren’t you worried?” some would ask.

“Not yet” I’d answer.

Well. Last night I woke up with all the worries I didn’t worry for twenty years.

Where were all these worries hiding? Were all the worries held in some kind of ice block?

I think about ice and water and how they’re both made up of the same exact elements — but have completely different forms.

Were all my worries over all these years frozen? Frozen from fear? Or frozen due to a lack of time or energy to think and only now in the warm quiet night breeze twenty years later they melt?

Now here’s the theory: In this equation if water equals worry then can water diluted with faith evaporate the worry.

A story comes to me as proof and comfort.

Jay Litvin writes a beautiful story about himself and his son before he become religious. It’s time he believes for his son to learn to cross the street by himself. His son is all of six years old.

Mr. Litvin decides to secretly follow his son in his car to each of the street corners his son is going to cross. He describes how he sits behind the steering wheel clenching his teeth holding it tight questioning why or how exactly this is going to help his son if — G-d forbid — anything happens. He continues this scenario one or two times complete with cold sweats and his hand on the car door handle. His eyes don’t blink for fear that in the momentary blackness when his lids would cover his eyes something horrible would happen. As he sits crouched in the car he decides there must be a G-d as he cannot accept his son’s vulnerability to the great unknown forces of darkness and harm in the world nor could he accept his helplessness to keep his son safe. It makes no logical sense to him that a little life would be brought into this world only to one day face having to claim his independence with no one or nothing to watch over him.

Not able to take the pressure of his love and fear in his innocence of not knowing he prays. A flash of something comes over him and he watches his son happy as can be carefree begin to put one foot into the street and suddenly the author says “I see them. All shapes and sizes — some like cartoon characters — all around flapping their wings and surrounding protecting even touching his son while some fly out like scouts to make sure no cars are coming.”

He doesn’t see the angels again.

About twenty years later the author goes to visit this son in New York.

They eat lunch together. Walk around. Daven together. Spend a week. At the end of the week when it comes time to go his son asks if his father remembers his tickets as they head out to find a cab to take him back to the airport.

The author writes how he felt so much love for his son during those days.

He liked the man his son had become. Yet he had to leave him and go many many miles away.

When they hug each other goodbye he holds his tears inside.

As he gets into the taxi “Ta” the son says. The father turns his head so the son won’t see his tears heartache worry and hope his fear and regret his lips moving in prayer. The taxi leaves.

Just before the cab turns the corner the author looks back — and once again he sees them the angels carrying his son down the street.

This story brings me to the conclusion: 1. Faith evaporates worry. 2. Worry born from love when replaced with faith produces angels.

The science of religion.