My father is afraid of age. Not neccesarily of death itself, though he may very well fear that, and I wouldn't know. No, he seems to fear the aging process itself; he worries about what will happen to him as he grows old and feeble. I know that he is not the only one in the world that worries about such things. There are probably hundreds of thousands of others that worry about the same. I myself can see how frightened one can become when he or she thinks of the neglect of one's relatives, or of waiting for death to come and finally take one away. Even the thought of the body decaying, and becoming unable to run or bend as one once could, is fully enough to make some fear age. And yes, these things are frightening. But how much worse is it to have all of this happen to you with none to turn to for companionship, love, and encouragement? When your body, or even your mind, begins to decay, you have a God, who will hold you in his arms and reassure you that He has and will continue to take care of you, unfailing and unfaltering, to the very end of the world and beyond. Why, then, should we have reason to fear? 'Tis not a hard thing, to look to one who has loved you enough to give up life itself in order to give you the opportunity for life. Old age, and death, do not end all life; why, then, should we fear?