Growing through it: Fear, faith and a little moth

This morning, as I was getting ready to leave, a little moth flew into my car. It wasn’t big — just a tiny, fluttery thing that landed quietly on my windshield. But as soon as I saw it, an old memory stirred. “If you kill a moth, someone in your family will die.” I don’t even remember who told me that first. Maybe it was one of those things passed down through whispers on porches or during late-night talks at sleepovers. But there it was again—this strange, lingering superstition tucked away in my memory. And for a moment, I felt it. That flicker of unease. But then I caught myself. Isn’t it funny how fear hangs on longer than it should? How it shows up uninvited, e