Confessing my fears

Okay, so here’s a scary thought that I can’t believe I’m putting on paper.  I’m starting to get paranoid, so, the way I purge things from myself is to write about them.  Well, here goes.

So, I’ve talked lately about my newborn cousin, Whitney.  I have no new news except to say that the surgery went well.  But I’ve been toying with the idea–or rather, maybe, Satan has been implanting this awful fear in my head that “Just wait, things are going to get worse.” 

My lifelong fear has always been that my dad would die.  I’m a HUGE daddy’s girl;  my father is my strength.  All he has to do is frown at me and I will start balling.  No joke.  And he’s talked the past couple of years of how the older he gets, the less he fears death.  He’s joked about how, as a kid you think you’re invincible, but when you get older reality hits.  He says he’s realized that there’s nothing to fear in death; that that truth has become a bigger reality as he’s aged.

Does this mean he’ll die?  No.  But let me explain my paranoia little more.

My dad is the oldest of six kids.  Two of his siblings have rotten lives, due to their own dumb choices.  They’ve had MANY hardships along life’s road.  Again, as much as I love them, it’s their own fault.  That leaves four kids left, if you include my dad.  One just went through a gut-wrenching divorce a couple years ago.  It was awful.  He’s on the good side of it now.  His life’s back together and he’s engaged again to a wonderful, cheerful woman.  But it was a very difficult period.  Another uncle of mine had their house catch fire.  Their family stayed with us while they remodeled and recuperated, but it was very scary and a long road to repair.  They have finally fixed everything, but it took over a year.  They were living in their basement for awhile.  Watching the intense stress on them tore my heart.  One more uncle left.  He’s the one who, right now, is at the most difficult time of his life, as he and his wife stay at the Ronald McDonald, watching their newborn baby go through surgery and try to recover from her heart condition.

That’s EVERY sibling my dad has.  Every one of them.  But not him.

How come no tragedy has struck MY family?  I am officially freaked out.  Is God trying to prepare me for something through watching all the others?  What about the miracle of our dear friend I told you about?  Why would God allow us a miracle, when there are so many others who need it more? 

I’m thinking two things.  Either we have some major heart-ache coming up, or some major responsibility God wants me–or my family–to do. 

I don’t want either one.  I usually am big on getting out of your comfort zone, but not knowing what the future holds is making me very nervous.  That’s where the fear of my dad dying comes in.  What if that’s it? What if that’s my family’s trial.  Or if someone gets seriously hurt?  Paralyzed, maybe. 

And admitting this makes me feel like a bad Christian.  How can I say this?  Does God really work like this?  I think He prepares His children, but I don’t think He goes around taking out one family at a time.   How does that one verse go?  “For God has not given us a spirit of timidity and fear . . .”

And maybe He’s trying to prepare me for something GOOD.  Maybe my fears are unfounded, because God wants to show us BLESSINGS.  But then I’d feel even more guilty.  My extended family has gotten nothing but ripped on these past couple years and I get REWARDED?  For doing what?  Absolutely nothing?

Good grief. 

You know what I need?   I need my baby cousin to come home totally healed.  I need to hold her in my arms; to kiss her. 

Then maybe I’ll start sleeping better and these idiotic thoughts will disappear!

 

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