Don't Worry. Be Holy.

Storming through his front door, Kevin proclaims boldly to the world (and anyone who's listening in his ritzy neighborhood) “I’m not afraid anymore. Do you hear me? I’m not afraid anymore!” A few seconds later, he sees his ominous neighbor and this is his reaction:

Well, that was long-lived, Kevin.

That scene from the movie Home Alone just about has me covered. I often make half-hearted and soon to be forgotten resolutions and promises, usually centered around how I’m going to stop worrying and start living. Carpe diem. Seize the fish, et cetera. And then I stop typing and start living in this world of ours. Which, quite frankly, is scary. Beautiful, yes. Awe-inspiring? You bet. But not an easy or comfortable place for scaredy-cats like me and Kevin.

What, you may ask, am I so scared of? Well, I could list of more than a double dozen of things that make my hands clammy and my insides turn flippety-flop. But it all boils down to these three things: 1. Death 2. the Unknown and the worst one of them 3. The fact that the when and how of Death is Unknown.

Two stories to illustrate my point.

Story Number One: The other day, my friend Caitlin told me about a cool Catholic college in Wyoming. It’s a traditional Catholic school with an outdoor education focus. Well, if you know me (and you probably do since you’re reading this), you know that I love all things Catholic and I love outdoor, experiential education. So I decided to check out their website for more information. As I was perusing the home page, I was surprised to see an article about the funeral arrangements for one of their students. On the way back from her freshman year at Wyoming Catholic College, Christine and her family stopped to do some hiking in the natural beauty near Moab, Utah. A few seconds before her death, her family snapped a picture of her, atop a craggy bluff in a pose of joyful triumph. Here was this girl in the prime of her life, and suddenly without warning, she was gone. (The ground literally caved in where she was standing, and she fell to her death).

Story Number Two: Around the same time, I revisited a story about a young Italian Catholic woman named Chiara, who, after carrying two babies with fatal abnormalities to full term, was diagnosed with cancer while she was carrying her third (and it turns out healthy) baby. She postponed treatment until after her baby was born, and passed away about a year later. To read her story and to hear her speak (she gave her testimony after the birth of her first child), with such faith in the midst of such great loss and suffering is very moving. (Warning: both will make you cry).

Isn't she absolutely gorgeous? Holiness does that.

What were my reactions to these stories? I was sorry. But more revealingly, I was scared. Scared because these women were young. They were good. And they were more prepared for their death than I am.

But something else I took away from both of these stories was their zest for life. Both were tragically cut short, but both lived their lives in such a way that they made those short years count. Plus, just because I worry and take ridiculous precautions doesn’t mean I will add one year, one day, one millisecond to my life. After all, doesn’t Jesus remind us of this truth?

“For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. 

(Matthew 6:25-33)

And honestly, even if it did, do I want to live a life of safety, timidity, and only-do-something-when-you know-no-risks-are-involved? No.

So I will try once more. To set out courageously. “No holds barred!” as my friend Katherine’s almost three-year-old proclaims in his Davy Crockett coonskin cap. To live each day that God grants to me without the extra “what ifs?” and “I can’ts.” And maybe next year, when my husband asks me to go skiing with him, I won’t imagine a million ways I will die an early death (as in losing control and careening wildly down a mountain into a forest of Douglas Firs). I’ll just say, “I’m not afraid anymore. Do you hear me? I’m not afraid anymore!” And try my best to mean it.