I have a bad habit of imagining someone else’s suffering will pass to me like a contagious disease. Sometimes the images of another’s suffering is too much for me such as the vivid thought of the two seniors slamming into a dump truck because the morning sunshine blinded the driver’s view. Or discovering the full body paralysis of a perfectly healthy woman who is my friend’s sister started with a tingling feeling in her hands. Or news of yet another school shooting. 

Dad was good at interrupting my wild imagination with the simple choice. Do I want this fixation of fear addiction? Do I want to be like a meth junkie or an addict? Do I want to shoot up on thoughts that make my hair stand up on end like a finger in a light socket? Do I want to live the horror movie of my mind or would I like to have a nice lunch together? Do I want to taste the pesto chicken wrap and side of fresh raspberries? Do I want to look at the magnolia tree shedding its soft enclosures that feel like a kitten’s ear? Do I notice the whitest petal tipped in pink opening slowly in the afternoon sun?  

It’s amazing how it’s just that simple.  

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD. – Lamentations 3: 22-27 

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