Fear. A four-letter word if I ever saw one. Yes, even a blind girl sees fear.
For all of us, fear lies beneath the surface, waiting for the moment it can make its violent attack and grab us with its pointy, unforgiving teeth, shake us until we don’t know which end is up, our pounding heart seemingly residing in our knees.
Last week I was convinced there was something wrong with Piper. He was cuddly in a new way along with some other concerning behavior. He is fine and I am so thankful. I am grateful for Piper every day and I say it often to him and everyone else. And in this instance, once I knew he was healthy, the relief and gratitude washed over me, the terror gone as quickly as it came.
I was left to wonder: how can fear cripple us so immediately and so devastatingly, yet when a positive outcome follows, although profound at the moment when one becomes the other, it is never as visceral as the terror?
Most of us could not function if we always carried that level of scare with us and as much as we may count our blessings, to live constantly in that deep state of emotion would be equally hard. The highs and lows of life are difficult to maintain for any length of time.
I do wish that we could experience daily the absence of being frightened as intensely as we do when it strikes. Not all day, but for a moment every time we see the people we cherish, do the things we love to do and are able to move our minds and bodies freely without pain or affliction. I would welcome the sweet pain of “all is right with my world” as much as I welcome this healthy, happy bird to my finger to perch awhile.
