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Like A Mist

This morning is the funeral for my grandma’s sister.  It’s up in Nebraska so I am not able to go.  A couple days ago, my grandma woke up just like it was another day and walked into her sister’s apartment and found her on the floor.  Just like that.

I read chapter 2 of Crazy Love this week and it reminded and convicted me of so many things.  When I was in Jr. High, a girl I knew in my youth group had a brain aneurism and died.  She was 17 years old.  She was one of the most amazing girls I have ever met.  Her life held such promise, and then it was over.  What if I died today?  What would people remember about me?  I honestly have no idea.  I know how I hope that they’d remember me.

I’ve thought a lot about dying over the past few years.  Living every moment as if it was my last has been the philosophy of my life.  Being sick makes you think about that stuff.  However, living every moment as if it might not be my last is something that has been a huge struggle for me.

Honestly, living scares me more than waking up and seeing Jesus.  Him I trust, and He has never let me down or failed to prove His love to me.  I live my life for Him.  He and I, we’re ok.

It’s all these people I live with on earth that I struggle with.  How do I know if I can trust someone?  I’ve had some pretty significant blunders, so I have lived most of my life adding bricks to the wall around my heart.  Sure, I’ll be a friend to others, be their listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.  However, when I cry, I lock myself in a room.  Being vulnerable with someone…well, I’ve done that, and it didn’t turn out too well.
So I can write these general blogs with all the deep thoughts I’m having and it’s all good.  I’m leaving out the personal details.  Sometimes it’s easier for me to write about my feelings and put it out there, thinking well, maybe my mom will read this.  If someone else does, whatever.  It’s much harder for me to sit across the table from a friend and tell them, because it’s no longer just some words on a website.  There are two eyes staring back at me.  Those eyes might see me cry.  They might see the ugly things about me.  And what if I died tomorrow and that was her last memory of me?  What would she think of me then?  “Oh, she seemed like a great person, but…”  No, it’s much easier to deal with things alone and let everyone “respect” me.  What is respect?  What is honor anyway?

This is what I have been thinking about lately.  Honestly, it’s been bugging me a lot.  Living life with Jesus…at the end of the day, I know where we’ll stand.  However, I don’t know where I will stand with anyone else, especially if I allow them to see the deepest parts of my heart.  Does anybody else struggle with this?

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About the author chelseamaxine

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