Me: Okay, God, here's the thing. I'm scared. I'm trying not to be, but I am.
God: I know. Want to talk about it?
Me: Do we need to? I mean, you already know.
God: Let's talk about it anyway... We've done this before.
Me: I know, I just feel like I should be bigger or stronger or something by now.
God: *waiting patiently, unhurried, undistracted, never annoyed.
Me: Okay. So, I'm afraid I'll do everything I can to protect my family and it won't be enough. I'm afraid of someone I love dying. I'm afraid the world won't go back to what it was before. I'm afraid my life is always going to feel this unsettled.
God: Anything else?
Me: EVERYTHING ELSE.
God: Remember how your daughter woke up the other night and came running down the hall to your bedroom?
God: You were still awake, so when you heard her running, you started calling out to her before she even got to you... remember? Do you remember what you called out to her?
Me: I said, "You're okay! You're okay! You're okay! I'm here."
God: Why did you call out to her? Why didn't you just wait for her to get to your room?
Me: Because I wanted her to know that I was awake, and I heard her, and she didn't have to be afraid until she reached the end of the dark hallway.
God: Exactly. I hear you, my child. I hear your thoughts racing like feet down the dark hallway. There's another side to all of this. I'm there already. I've seen the end of it. And I want you to know right here as you walk through it all, you're okay. I haven't gone to sleep, and I won't.
Me: *crying. Can we sit together awhile? Can we just sit here a minute before I go back to facing it all?
God: There's nothing I'd love more.