Scared

Have you ever been scared?  I mean really scared.  Scared for an extended period of time with no pardon and no relief.  Nothing to me can be more painful.  The kind of fear where you might sweat blood.

Sitting in the dark, peeping through the curtains of a two story house, focused entirely on what it is out there that is going to get you; never letting your mind wonder about the strangeness that this would seem, if in fact someone did get to you.  A shotgun in hand for protection or maybe ultimate relief, fully loaded and ready for an outcome.  You feel that having all the lights on in the rest of the house will allow you to see first your assailant or victim before they discover you is reasonable and logical.  

Suddenly, you are distracted and begin to focus on the light coming from under the door.  Leaning over to the floor you shiver and look under the door expecting that you might see the one that is making those sounds; maybe a pair of boots or muddy shoes.  Nothing appears; the sounds get louder, you can feel your heart beat.  You wish you could see the one (or maybe you do not) that is causing you to suffer so much fear.  The agonizing scene continues long into the night.  You finally are exhausted from the mere concentration of effort to locate and terminate the source.  If only you could see him.  The sun appears on the horizon finally giving you relief as you get into bed and drift off to sleep.  The drug's illusions have finally worn off long enough for you to crash.

In 1983, God restored my sanity.  It would take years, however, to finally get over the fear.  Sometimes, my thoughts return to the scene and I think what would have happened if the shoes or boots did appear under the door.  Would I be the assailant or the victim.  

Only God can bring you out and restore your health.  Ask me, I know.  I can now talk about it and I will.

Brad Warren