Faith Over Fear

I remember the days following Connor’s passing, I would walk a lot. I was stir crazy being inside the house with memories of him bouncing off the walls.  Walking allowed me to think; it allowed me to cry; it allowed me to pray; it allowed me to start processing the thoughts of “what the hell just happened to my life”.

There’s a three-mile loop that I often walk through my neighborhood and then out on a busy sidewalk. The sidewalk is wide enough for multiple people – runners, dog walkers and bikers.  I’m not sure I’ve ever not seen someone out and about.   That sidewalk then turns into one that parallels a busy road.  It continues to meander about another three-quarters of a mile before returning to my neighborhood.  A loop. 

On this particular day, I was walking the loop lost in thought.  I was listening to music. I started actively listening to Christian music after he died. I was searching for anything to help me find solid ground to stand on.  I walked through my neighborhood and didn’t see anyone.  I then headed out on the busy sidewalk and didn’t see anyone there either.  I started getting closer to the main road and remember thinking how odd it was that I had not seen another person – or a car – the entire time.  Weird.

During the walk I was trying to talk to God. They say you can just talk (or even think) and God hears you, but while I’d always proclaimed to be (and honestly believed I was) a Christian, I wasn’t sure I’d ever actively pursued being one unless it suited me (i.e. I was scared, needed something, etc...)  That said, losing a son will shake every foundation you’ve ever thought was true or right in this world.  It will (literally) bring you to your knees in search of something – some reason, some meaning, some truth – of “why”. 

As I turned the corner onto the busy road – still not having seen anyone – I finally saw someone.  He was a thin, slightly older black man with greyish hair and a beard.  He had the biggest smile on his face and he was walking towards me with his arms swinging like he was having the best time.  But what got me the most was the shirt he was wearing.  It said “Faith Over Fear”.   I saw it and something registered immediately. I mean, I felt it in my core being.

I smiled and said hello as he passed me.   And then I absolutely broke down in tears.  Thank goodness there was a bench nearby where I was able to sit down because I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.   Had God truly sent me a message through this man?  Had He sent me the words I needed to help steady the shaking ground?  To this day – nearly two years later – I still believe the answer is yes.  

I’m sure to some it may sound weird – and that’s okay. To me, though, I believe if there’d been other people out that day, I would not have paid as much attention to the one and only person I saw – or his shirt.  But, I was looking for someone and what I got was a message.  To believe that Connor is in a better place based on what God has promised takes faith.  And to have faith is a choice.  A choice I now actively make every day. I also realized that day that God isn’t going to reveal to me why He took Connor. I may find out one day, but for now, I have to accept that knowing the “why” wouldn’t change the outcome.  Connor would still be gone. I would still have to live without him.  And I would still need to learn to have faith over fear.  ∞