Fear like a curtain

This post scrapes close to the bone. It’s about something that shifted inside me a couple of weeks ago, the short version of something I related at church (my faith tradition is Mennonite) when asked to participate in a sermon on “work” through various seasons of life.

After reflecting on that, I segued to the Sunday before, when a phrase in a text I’ve heard many times — I urge you, in view of God’s mercy to offer your bodies… — flashed as if neon. I’d just visited Mom, 95, just witnessed the state of her body and mind, which also reminded me of Dad’s decline via Alzheimer’s. I realized that, on account of those years and experiences, our shared genes, and my wish to stay in control and not be a burden, I was carrying a perhaps unreasonable but nevertheless heavy dread of — and resistance to — aging the way my parents had.

Now here it was: offer your body. This brain, heart, lungs, all of it, into what the inevitability of aging might entail.

     I carried a dread of aging the way my parents had.

I tussled with it all that day. I knew it wouldn’t make an iota of difference to the unstoppable march of time and what was in store for me whether I trusted or not (as if prayer is manipulation!), but I wanted to say Yes, to let go as it were; I sensed Spirit pressing exactly that point.

And finally I could.

What I hadn’t anticipated, and didn’t tell the folks at church (insufficient time had passed to observe it) was the effect of Yes. It’s like fear was a curtain. When flung apart, I could see the sun was up, the landscape a-light with possibility. It energized me for today.

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Friends: Someone alerted me to some rather jarring ads after this — and other posts — (which I don’t see). WordPress makes money off these for (free) use of their program (which I like working with, I have to say); yes, I can pay a fee for no-ads, which I already pay on my other site; was hoping to avoid, as it gets expensive, but they seem to corner a person this way. 🙂 Please ignore or forgive these ads while I consider what to do. Gratefully, Dora