Do Not Be Afraid, For I Will Protect You

Amber M.

*This is a series of semi-biographical short stories. I have taken creative liberty with my memories and there will be some aspects which are completely fictionalized. The point is not to share the absolute PHYSICAL truth, but to portray the EMOTIONAL truth. To gain knowledge of how another human being feels on the inside is the only truth that really matters*

"Do Not Be Afraid, For I Will Protect You"

"Do not be afraid, for I will protect you. I call you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I am with you; when you pass through the streams, they will not overwhelm you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not harm you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your deliverer." (Isaiah 43:1-3)

We didn't always have bad days--Jenny and me...

We had just finished singing her favorite song, Rudolph the Red-Nosed-Reindeer--which we did all day and every day--when the giggling finally started to subside. For quite some time, Jenny lay in bed, slightly curled up, not saying a word.
With her brows furrowed and speech showing great care, she finally spoke again:
"Mama..."
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, baby," I replied to her, as it was our usual way.
"Why... why do people die?"
"That's just a part of life, I'm afraid."
"But, why?"
"Well, at first, everyone starts off as a baby--I did, you did--and each year we all get a little older... Like when you have your birthday! But then one day, after we've lived our lives and we've used up all of our birthdays, each of us will have to die, but dying isn't a bad thing."
"Will I die, too?"
"One day you will... But not for a long time." I replied, taken aback by the seriousness of her question. "You're going to be a very old woman before you die."
She contemplated my response for a moment. "Will I die and go to Heaven?" she then asked.
"When it's your time, I promise, you will go to Heaven. You just continue to be as kind as you know how to be, okay? Just try really hard to always be a sweet girl and never, ever worry about the rest. The bad people are the ones who aren't allowed into Heaven and you, most certainly, are not a bad person."
"But I'm scared..."
I got up from my chair, just a few feet away, and knelt down next to her bed.
"I know you are, and it's okay to be scared, because it scares me too sometimes. I think most people are at least a little afraid."
"But you don't have to be," I reassured her. "When you die, you will go to Heaven and you will be so happy! Do you know why?"
"Why?" she asked, as her eyes, a beautiful green, full of complexity, bore into mine. With those eyes--I still wonder--what all had they witnessed during her life?
I only hoped she wouldn't sense the depth of my own fear and confusion as I searched desperately, within myself, to find the right words. I began brushing the loose strands of hair away from her face, tucking each one behind her ears
"Because Heaven is a perfect place," I said to her. "You see... that's what makes it so special. You will never feel sad there because once you're in Heaven, no one will be able to hurt you ever again."
"Did you know that?" I asked.
She shook her head no.
"It's true because once you're there, God will protect you. He's going to make it to where the bad stuff won't be able to find you anymore. And, guess what else..."
"What?" she asked, her eyes lighting up a little.
"In Heaven, every day will feel like your birthday, but even better! And, I bet God never runs out of chocolate cake, either!" I said, tapping her nose with my finger, pushing her back into her fit of giggles."It does sound pretty cool, huh?"
                   
         For          Jenny, it was as if her heavy thoughts evaporated just as quickly as          they came, while I was left, still trapped, under all of the          weight--a weight that returns each time I think of how her voice          sounded that day. The hint of sadness it held hit me in a way that I          had never before experienced. I wanted to make her see that this          life was not all she had to look forward to. I wanted her to know          that one day, her wounds would heal and she would gain control over          her past. I wanted her to believe that one day, she would be able to          feel as if she were enough.          
         
         For the first          time in years, I forced myself to speak aloud about God. I forced          myself because she needed          me to. The one thing that could bring her comfort, was the one thing          I feared most--a fear I have tried my hardest to hide. It took all          I had to fight back my desire to break down in tears, lower myself          to her bedroom floor and crawl within my own uncertainties. I often          wonder about the connection made between the two of us on that          day--who was it truly meant for--Jenny or myself?