Almost There...

...It's Friday morning. Only one more day and I can call it a week. It hasn't been such a horrible week. Just a long one. When the alarm went off today I said, "You've GOT to be kidding me!" I am sure I had just fallen asleep!!

Despite that, I got up, worked out (shut up!), had breakfast, and now I'm trying to squeeze in a post before I get ready for work.

I don't think I have anything of major importance to report, since I've pretty much just gone through the motions of work, chores, workouts and sleep this week, but I did want to comment on this post over at Stuff Christians Like.

We used to talk about this at my old church, and this Sunday it came up at my new church too. I'm always glad to know I'm not alone in my rapture-worry. I saw the same movie the post-writer saw, only I was younger. I'm sure I couldn't have been more than five. They showed it on a Sunday night in church, and not too long after that, my parents read me a book on the subject during our family devotions. Now I'm not one to badmouth my parents' decisions in raising me. Who am I to talk? I have no children. I'm not smart. I know that. But I do have to say if I had kids, I'd approach this subject differently than they did because it scared me to death.

I went through a season of life when I was literally petrified to be alone because I was afraid Jesus would come back, leave me here, and I wouldn't even know it had happened because I hadn't been around anyone to watch them disappear. I wouldn't let Mom and Dad out of my sight. If we went to the gas station, I'd go inside with them to pay because I had to be able to see them.

Babysitting was the perfect job for me because I knew babies were safe. As long as I could still see them, I knew I was fine.

The insane fear lasted until I was sixteen and could not come up with a viable excuse for not driving alone. I had to be brave enough to get in a car and get out on the open road. (I solved that by listening to Christian radio...as long as the songs kept playing, I knew I was okay!)

I have to admit, though my Dad loves to talk end times, the topic still scares me and I'd prefer to talk about painting or Wal Mart or root canals or anything else.

So that's my deep dark secret fear...apparently shared by the post writer. Now I know a couple of you who read my blog have had this same fear, because we've talked about it. Anyone else?