Facing Fear Through a Friend

Whether we admit it or not, most of us have something we're afraid of.  Not dentist drill afraid, or public speaking afraid - but rather a fear of something so dreadful we bury it deep within ourselves lest it keep us awake at night.  Financial ruin afraid.  Cancer afraid.  Or things worse.

As children, our fears involved flying insects, thunderstorms, or a bicycle with no training wheels.  When we became teenagers it was a first kiss, embarrassing acne or parallel parking on a busy street. Adulthood revealed the scary uncertainty of keeping the mortgage current or the possibility of health problems for our unborn children.

Parts of yesterday and today were spent huddled in a small house at the end of a quiet street, watching a man writhe in agony as he struggles with the shock of a life changed forever. My greatest fear, the fear that secretly makes me keep the blinds partially drawn on this window of time in my life, is being lived out by a close friend - directly in front of me.

An array of cars squeeze in along the street and wherever they can find space in his driveway.  Under the shadow of the streetlight people shuffle silently toward his house.  The air inside is warm and pleasant as it greets his somber visitors with the smell of casserole and percolating coffee.  The floor mat inside the door is soaked with melted snow from the forty pairs of shoes that have used it today.  Parents and grandparents seated in folding chairs around the perimeter of the living room smile softly as they make eye contact with the stream of well-wishers who file through. 

It's been an anguishing two days. Surely there's countless more to come.  I've watched him lose control of all that he knows.  My heart aches for him.  I choose not to look at his face anymore - for fear I'll see my own.