I sit here, waiting to say goodbye to my Yiayia. She's 92, and ready to go home to Jesus. And even if she lives one more month or two...I won't be back as I live across the country.
Last year this time, I was in the thick of a refining faith. I felt closer to Jesus than ever. I was assured by His grace, His love, His plan.
I cling to those now.
But weariness smothers what's left of my believer's heart.
The weariness of a fight. The weariness of broken dreams. The weariness of beating lies.
I want to stand by my Yiayia and pour truth into her ear. Give her the everlasting hope that her God has promised her. She knows it, deep down. She's been taught her whole life. But I see her flesh consume her peace. And she forgets.
I remember. I remember the hope. Even if it's been beaten alive by a cruel argument, even if it is mocked and tattered. Even if fear creeps in and tries to blot it out.
I remember it.
For God did not give me a spirit of Fear, but of POWER, and LOVE, and SOUND MIND.
And with that, I will say goodbye to my Yiayia, and remind her God loves her, and she's been blessed by a sound mind even until now, and that the power of the Holy Spirit inside her will give her such a ride to Heaven that fear will flee forever.
I'll cling to that.