Let Us Talk About Fear

Coffee and cookies over a good book
Credit: Pixabay

Let’s talk about fear for a minute or two. Let us talk about the dreams it’s stolen and friendships it’s shattered in two. Yes, let’s talk about what makes us bristle and steel our spines despite the knowledge of what we ought to do. 

Do you know it? Have you heard of it?

I know fear well; in fact, I’d consider us more than acquaintances.

It sauntered into the deepest corners of my heart and settled in without so much as a knock, a dubious look on its face. It sunk its teeth and encircled its claws, imbibing my soul and will to bear arms in an act of defense.

 I am forced to give up before I can even put up a fight. Fear, a monster I’d quickly compare to an ugly blight. I watched it as it packed away my dreams and hopes neatly in a box, tucking them out of sight.

Now, I’m crippled. Dare I dream another dream or retrieve the dusty dream-filled box? Dare I force myself to stand, matching my height with it and put an end to its mocks? Dare I seize it by the hand and put an end to our endless talks? Dare I stop staring at retreating backs and come to terms that some friendships were all but faux?

Speak your mind, but I remain acutely aware of rejection, another one of fear’s cousins and relatives. So I remain in the murky water that pooled about me, tears constantly feeding it, thanks to fear’s other representatives.

The water gets murkier the longer I stay, as I trudge through the penitence of it all. But I hit a wall. So, I am urged to stand, make myself presentable and say, this doesn’t suit you at all! No, no, it never has and it never will, since the beginning of it all! Don’t you know that you are a child of the living God, the one who paid it all?

So I point my nose in the air, my shoulders square as I stare fear in its eyes. “Leave,” I say, “you will no longer be my demise.” With fear’s hand in mine, I push it out into the cold, out with its vice.

So here’s to letting God keep the fear out, as His love sparks the embers of my heart. Here’s to God healing every part of me that still hurts. Here’s to a loving God.

Written by
Yvonne Patock

I write about spiritual matters, poetry, fashion and beauty, hair growth and management and travel.

View all articles
Leave a reply

Cannot call API for app 591315618393932 on behalf of user 5145406475504029
Written by Yvonne Patock