Tomorrow I am headed to across the country to see my sweet grandmother. She has not been given long to live and this is my last chance to say good-bye. The last time I went to see her by myself, as we were flying in, we hit a rough patch of turbulence. I remember thinking how grateful I was to be alive (I know, a bit dramatic sounding) and finally home again. I was consumed by the thought of leaving my family behind -- namely my husband and two small children. What would they do if I died?
Now that I am about to leave again, I find myself completely fearful of dying on my trip -- on the airplane, while on a run, driving to the grocery store. I realize in my head that this is completely irrational and that the chances of me dying in my hometown are just as likely (if not more so) than dying in Florida. I also know that there is no way that I can cancel this trip -- how does one refuse their dying grandmother's last wish to see her granddaughter one more time? If I continue to allow this fear to fester, all I do is allow Satan to rob me of my joy -- the joy of spending precious last minutes with one of my favorite people in the entire world.
God has not given me a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, a spirit of love. 2 Tim 1:7