She Laughs Without Fear of the Future

When I left for college, I promptly went out and had my ears double-pierced. It was, in its small way, my first act of real rebellion. I knew my parents did not want me to get them double-pierced. So, I had them done about two weeks after settling in on campus.

Then I started planning for the tattoo.

But what? And where? And, well, why?

What – a flower? A daisy? So mundane.

Where – my back? A shoulder? Someplace that would be visible when I chose, but not visible when I needed to be prim and proper?

Why – to upset my parents further of course.

I never got the tattoo. I was at least sane enough at 18 to realize that my reasons, and my lack of vision, were reason enough not to pursue a permanent mark on my frame.

I’ve thought about this ever since. I like the idea of a tattoo as something unexpected and out of the ordinary. But when everyone is getting one, it’s not so unusual. I wanted to be different.

I’ve been chewing of this idea of contentment for days. What does contentment really mean? What is the essence, the essential of contentment?

I think contentment is to be present, to be here, not there, not somewhere else. Not worrying about what’s next or what if.

Imagine that your family genes carry with them the potential of a devastating illness. But, for a variety of reasons, you don’t know, you can’t know, if yours is one of the number chosen to suffer.

What then? Could you live each day, present and accounted for, unafraid of the future? Or would you drown in the fear, the worry, the what if of your inexplicable future?

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
    she can laugh at the days to come.

Proverbs 31:25

This. This is who I want to be. Present. Unafraid. Laughing at the days to come.

If I ever were to get a tattoo…this would be it. But maybe in Hebrew, so it’ll be pretty…and on my wrist so I can look at it every day and remember:

 

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