I was certain that the worst thing about yesterday was going to be running off the sidewalk into street. One wheel, anyone, and an aunt and uncle were there to help me recover ... although if I hadn't been walking to the funeral with them, I wouldn't have been on the sidewalk.
But when I realized the processional hymn, I knew I was in trouble. I started crying, and it wasn't for my 90-year-old cousin.
The song was Be Not Afraid, and the thing is I am so very afraid.
I am afraid I will put Claren down to make me feel better, not her.
I fear what will happen when my chief helpers, Mom and Dad, are gone.
I worry what will happen if I have to retire before I am ready.
And so much more.
The song makes these claims like "If you cross the barren desert, you shall not die of thirst." But you will, unless you find a spring or carry your own water.
Similarly, "If you walk amidst the burning flames," you will certainly be harmed.
The refrain is more realistic, saying, "Be not afraid I go before you always," and a later verse says, "know that I am with you through it all."
But, and not to be too blunt, who cares? I expect that from God. I know misery is supposed to love company, and I do, if that company can provide any assistance.
Like my nephew wandering not my room, hugging me for no reason and leaving. He might have been checking to see if I had any cookies.
Like my sister, who spent a half-hour putting a new chaise lounge, then later helped me out of said chaise.
How is God better than an imaginary friend?
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