I want to be brave. I want to write about it. That is the theme of my blog.
I made that decision and immediately had a stupid weekend. Tow trucks and CNN and cancer all played a part. So naturally, for about two hours, I questioned my very existence and whether the God of our universe cared because that’s what I do when I get mad and scared. I take blowing things out of proportion to a whole new level. If blowing things out of proportion were an MMA fight, I would have BJ Penn in round 1.
But the problem with freaking out is that it takes faith right out of the picture. Nothing matters when I’m freaking out except freaking out. So a long talk with a patient friend, a thoughtful car ride by myself with extremely loud music, and some time with the Lord have reminded me that God is still good, he is still great, and he still loves me. And he doesn’t want me to be afraid.
There are food blogs and running blogs, mommy blogs and gardening blogs. Well, mine is going to be a brave blog. Every day I want to do something scary, something that makes this fearful girl trust, something that takes courage. Don’t get excited, I’m pretty sure God is OK with me still refusing to sky dive. But who knows? Maybe when I have talked to enough strangers about Jesus, driven through enough rain storms, given away enough money, prayed enough impossible prayers, run enough races, I’ll jump out of an airplane.