I’m supposed to write an article for work encouraging our clientele to dig deeper into social media. All I want to write to them is to not be afraid of failure, rejection, or wasted time.

I have friends who are going through some weird life changes. All I want to tell them is to not be afraid of whatever future looms before them.

But I’m dealing with fear myself. I’ve never come face to face with homelessness like I have here. My heart is torn for them, but at the same time, there’s always been this indoctrinated thought in my mind that there are enough programs out there that the homeless are only homeless because they don’t want to be responsible for their own lives. Therefore they aren’t worthy of my compassion, time or support. My love is glaringly conditional, and I’m afraid I won’t learn how to break that. I’m also afraid that I will break it, and some homeless person I interact with will give me lice. Really, really don’t want lice.

Being fearless is not an option. Fear comes. No escaping that. Courage is not the absence of fear, but bold action in spite of fear. It requires trust. Trust that things end up well, no matter how badly everything burns between here and glory.

I don’t want to live among the fearless. I want to commune with the courageous. Wherever they are.