I can't wait

I sat there on that big fluffy bed, consumed by heavy blankets and heavy thoughts that press down and hold me bound to their comfort, to their weight, and I was reading of the people and their stories. Reading about parents who have a child with leukemia, and how sad it must be to hold that bundle of joy not but six months before you find out the cancer has taken over his body, and his life expectancy keeps getting more and more slim, as his body shrivels more and more slim, and the life-sucking disease steals the life from his eyes. The story of a girl too terrified of herself and her own heart that she never lets herself do what she wants, is always too scared to show that big, beautiful, beating heart to the world because what if they laugh? and what if my heart is too much? and what will they think? Or the one of a mother recently handed an expiration date---"2 more months... at most"---and has a family she never wants to leave, and life she has grown to love, and grandchildren that are on the way, and why, why, why? she cries in the midnight hour, the quiet, lonesome hour.

I often think of death and the fragility of life. My struggle with anxiety has made these melancholy thoughts more morbid and dismal, and can become a dark, dark place. The people in my life who have so patiently and lovingly and compassionately helped me in this process often have to whisper in these moments "do not dwell on the what ifs and the what could bes."

Letting one sink deep into the sea of fear is not a good thing. Wading in the waters of the worst possible scenerio can feel like an ocean without a shore.

And what can we do? How can we fight? And I only know of one thing: we need to brainwash ourselves with truth.

And the brainwashing has begun in my life and the reading of the Word is so good and I try to let it fill the body and the soul, try to let it break into the bones, try to write it upon my forehead and my arms and my legs and my heart and my mind. And so I was full of deepest joy when today, as I browsed the aisles of some store where Christmas music played (loudly) from the speakers and promises of perfect holidays were tied up in the sales of the week, and began to think again of life and its fragility and death and how quickly this beautiful, short thing goes, and my mind went to one thing: great expectation for heaven.

Because sometimes life brings the news we fear we don't have the courage to hear, doesn't it? And sometimes all is heavy and all is dark and there seems to be no hope in the trail, but oh how beautiful, how good, how wonderful is our future. 

I smiled and whispered "I can't wait" to my Maker.

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