Ordinary Days | When you pass through the waters

When I was young, I never really thought about losing people to death, whether tragic or not. Part of it was the innocence of childhood, but the fact that all four of my grandparents were alive and well for my entire childhood and young adulthood helped keep death fairly removed from me. In fact, my first grandparent didn’t pass away until I was 29, and while his death was very sad, it wasn’t shocking — he had lived a long and full life, and we were at peace knowing he was again whole and at perfect rest.

Since then, I’ve lost a second grandparent, and my husband has lost a few members of his family — all sad, and tragic as all death is, but nothing that shook me to my core. It wasn’t until my mom got sick last fall that the magnitude of death really hit me. 

All of the sudden, the cord that holds us all in life and general well-being felt very thin and fragile. 

Quickly, I felt the walls of self-protection closing down — I quickly scrolled past family Christmas photos on Facebook and I was careful about avoiding movies and books that had anything to do with cancer or death or mothers. I even had to slip out of church a few times when the hymns we sang hit a little too close to home. 

Self-protection can be a handy tool at times, but it can also drift toward fear. I protected myself from potentially sad things because I was way too afraid to open my eyes wide to the real fear — the fear of losing my mom. 

Thankfully, I didn’t. We found out four months into her treatment that she was

cancer-free — the super aggressive treatment had effectively put her into remission before she even finished her last two treatments, which left us so thankful and joyful. But as a result of having to stare at such a big, scary beast for close to six months, now I find myself often struggling to push away a cloak of fear. 

What if something happens at the school while my girls are there? What if my husband has a wreck while he’s traveling? What if someone else gets sick? What if I get sick? Seeing how my family’s life was changed in one instant — Mom went for an X-ray for a persistent cough and came away with a cancer diagnosis — has made me see for the first time exactly how little control I have over the events of my life.

Of course, there is much to be said about not living in this kind of fear. Most of us have heard words like, “Do not fear, for I am with you,” and “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” These are strong words, but I need more. 

Then I found this: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” 

These have always been comforting words, but now that “when” is so much more heavy and important, because the “when” happened to us. And because we live in this imperfect, broken world, the “when” will come again. I’m hoping that focusing on the second half of those lines will keep me from being overly anxious about the first half. The floods and rivers and fires will come, but the promise is that they will not sweep over us; they will not set us ablaze. 

I’d love to connect! Email me at LaurenKDenton@gmail.com, find me on Twitter

@LaurenKDenton, or visit my blog at laurenkdentonbooks.wordpress.com.