Monday morning I found myself sitting up in my bed, sunshine streaming through my window, reflecting on how beautiful the morning can be. I thought of my family, and two seconds later I felt a wash of change inside me as a few trickling tears were released down my tender face. My mom is alive. My first instinct was to feel foolish at crying over something that was finished so long ago and was so paltry in comparison to countless others' stories.
But really, the safest thing I can do is acknowledge that at times I still feel afraid of cancer's unpredictable ways of creeping up on unsuspecting families. That I sometimes I doubt my ability to maintain abstinence until the day I'm married without having a boyfriend to stay faithful to. That sometimes I wonder if I'm really doing a good job at life if my choices aren't carbon copies of what someone else may choose.
I trust God to carry me through any situation, and provide for me every provision I will need each step of the way. I don't have to avoid my fears anymore, because the pain of going through learning experiences can't hold a candle to the strength of the One guiding me through them.
I could beat myself up for being frustrated at times this week, for not already knowing all of this, for not having 100% trust in God 100% of the time. But I'm learning to confidently and inconsequentially let go of fears as they surface, accepting that some of them may need to be released weekly. Thursday night I find myself sitting on the couch in a living room dimly lit by table lamps, and I'm contemplating how beautiful the mourning can be.
