I always said I’d celebrate my 50th birthday by getting a tattoo. But 50 came and went, and I didn’t get that tattoo after all. I was too scared. Scared of what people might think since I don’t exactly look like the tattoo type. Scared it would hurt too much and scared I’d regret it later.
But a friend’s tattoo keeps catching my eye. It says:
“Courage, dear heart.”
“Courage, dear heart.” The words speak to me because I may look brave on the outside, but on the inside I’m a chicken. I mean what woman is too scared to even get a tattoo? When I see the words on my friend’s arm, I remember all the times I’ve felt fear. Fear that would have paralyzed me had God not kept me moving forward.
God gave me Courage to do things afraid:
I was scared to death to get on a plane from Texas to Istanbul when I was 24. Even more scared when I arrived at my new Turkish home with people I could barely talk to.
When I could hardly walk at age 27 and the doctor said, “Rheumatoid arthritis,” I was terrified…