It’s as though all of my safe places are gone.Â TheÂ niches into which I used to retreat have sealed their doors.
The Worry has not only returned, but crept into every creviceÂ available.
Even when life is good, It still sneaks up and pulls the faith out from under me.
It’s making me weary.Â Physically tired.Â Darkness rests under each eye as if life has dealt me sucker punches from which I didn’t have the presence of mind to duck.
Everyone I haveÂ known that has ever lost a child has always given the same counsel,
“Hold your child close.Â Breathe them in.”
Instead I find myself rushing from the laundry to the cleaning to the cooking to the next emergency on my list. Then late at night, whenÂ it feels as though I’ve forgotten how to sleep, I remember that I’ve walked away from the counsel of those who are mourning the way through their reality of my deepestÂ fears.
“Hold your child close.Â Breathe them in. “
I’m a Martha, much in need of followingÂ the example of Mary in choosing that good part.
When I don’t seek daily the words of my Father in Heaven,Â choosing that good part becomes more fleeting, like trying to find substance in a wisp of smoke.
And The Worry returns, stronger than even before.
Because actual armor weighs too much and doesn’t fit well under my jeans, I’ve decided on another plan of attack to protect against The Worry and command away The Fear.
I’m committing to read the Book of Mormon in 100 days.
I’llÂ hold tightÂ to the blessings, strength, protection, assurances, and guidance that come because of and through Jesus Christ.
Because at the end of this journey I want no regrets.Â I want only beautiful memories, deep gratitude, and the knowledge that, on an eternal sphere, all is indeed well.