I am not brave. In fact, I'm a very fearful person.
My fears are real (at least in my heart and mind). I've been told that some of my greatest fears are irrational. Bears, for instance. There are no bears where I live, but I sometimes worry that there might be. I'm afraid to fly and I'm terrified to be in water where I can't feel the bottom. And lightning. A thunderstorm with lightning sends me beneath the covers calling out to the Lord.
I don't remember when I turned into such a scaredy-cat and it feels like the older I get, the more fearful I become. Drive-by shootings, child abductions, human trafficking, nuclear war and breast cancer have now replaced my fear of clowns, vampires and mice.
Here's the thing: I know the source of my fears and the battle against it has been waged. Sometimes, the war is daily, sometimes it's on a minute-by-minute schedule. It's not an easy thing to take on terror. It's very much, I imagine, like trying to escape from a bear. A mother bear. A slightly wounded mother bear. With cubs.
(With really, really hungry cubs...)
