Are You Afraid Too?

I am Afraid…but I don’t want to be…

Recently I logged on to Anne Jackson’s blog and read an old post titled “Are You Afraid to be Amazing?”  Anne’s blog is wonderful and if you would like to check it out, you can click here.  Here’s the excerpt from Anne’s post that got my attention:

I wish I had it figured out by now. I’ve forgiven, the bitterness usually stays at bay, but that fear of getting crushed again keeps a part of me silenced. I’m afraid to?be amazing -?to live to my full potential?-?because last time I was there, my dreams were shot through the heart.

What about you? I know with as many people read this blog, there have got to be some walking wounded. We are each responsible for our own healing…I’m not as consistent as I’d like to be, but I try taking risks or speaking my mind even when it’s scary. What are some steps that you’re taking to live again and to trust again?

This portion of her post struck a chord in me.  I realized that in some ways I am afraid to be amazing.  But why?  Why would I not want to be the most amazing wife, mom, writer…the most amazing at whatever I set out to do? 

I think for me it’s composed of a number of reasons, but the biggest one is that in times past when I have put my entire self out there…to be amazing…my efforts left me exhausted and hurt.  I worked so hard to do my best, to give my everything for the cause in front of me…and it was never really enough. 

I was never amazing. 

The reality of that is hard to grapple with, hard to wrap my mind around and difficult to come to terms with.  But, in the process of making that realization, I also recognized that I am starting to make progress.  I am healing and for me…writing freely is a major part of it.  Speaking my mind, expressing the cares that leave me laying awake at night.  I’m growing through the pain…that is progress for me. 

For years I was silenced and contained.  But…now…I’m not afraid to be vocal.  And personally… I’m thinking that is kind of amazing.

The Perfect Storm

I sat there in disbelief. All eyes were on the television.  Each person waited on the one word we feared the most… EVACUATION.  I couldn’t believe it and neither could the sweet girl who had carefully placed chemicals on my hair only minutes before.  The entire salon was silent for a moment and then there was a deafening buzz of activity.  Hairdryers and curling irons were being shoved into drawers and a line started to form at the cash register.  I just sat there…that’s all I could do.  I had foil in my hair for goodness sake.  I couldn’t go out in public like that.  Plus, what about the beautiful strawberry blonde low lights and sun-kissed highlights that I had waited weeks for?  My hairdresser began pacing back and forth.  Her little girl was at day care.  This meant she was safe, but she was also an hour away.  Evacuations were still voluntary at the time…but no one really wanted to stay in Louisiana.  Katrina hit our state hard only weeks before and panic surrounded even the slightest hint of a Hurricane. 

I could hear the stress in her voice as she called to check on her little girl.  I felt really bad; I knew she was beginning to worry.   So, I did what any nice person would do…I left without paying.  Okay, okay just kidding.  I told her to rinse my hair and go get her precious little one.  She quickly washed out my beautiful highlights and handed me a towel to wrap around my soaking wet hair.   Then she was out the door.  

I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I drove home.  This was going to be my first evacuation.  It was both scary and somewhat exhilarating.  I didn’t know where we were going, but I knew we needed to get on the road as soon as possible.  I threw everything of value into a suit case and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard my cell phone ring.  It was Barry.  I was thankful to finally be in contact with him and I was excited to find out where we would be headed for our mandatory vacation…um…I mean evacuation.  In a matter of seconds all of my hopes were dashed.  Barry wasn’t leaving.  He was part of the pastoral team staying behind to man the church campus.  The church was going to open its doors for anyone in need of shelter.  As happy as I was that we were providing this much-needed avenue of rescue…I didn’t want to leave without my husband.  All I could envision in my mind were the sappy movie scenes were the two lovers kiss and say goodbye for the final time.  Each one knowing they may never see the other again. 

Barry loaded my suitcases into the van.  I was so mad at him, but I didn’t want to leave on a bad note.  What if something happened to him?  I clung to him as he wrapped his arms tight around my waist.  I breathed in deep, he smelled like a sweaty man…but I didn’t care.   He was my sweaty man.  We prayed for each other and then I was off.  I along with some girlfriends headed to my parents house in Texas. What would normally only take a few hours turned into a 13 hour drive across the state.  Traffic was horrible and gas stations were lined with cars fighting to fill their tanks.  This was my first evacuation and I was amazed at the amount of people on the roads.  Everyone and their dog was leaving…except for my dear sweet, heroic husband.   

 By mid-morning the following day hurricane Rita made her presence known on the shores of Louisiana.  Towns and homes were devastated by the strength of the enormous storm.  But, the city of Lafayette remained safe and virtually untouched by the powerful winds and rain.  As my friends and I made our way back to Louisiana, I couldn’t help but think about the possibility of what could have happened.  The storm could have turned, Barry could have been hurt, our home could have been destroyed…the list goes on and on.  My reunion with my wonderful husband was bitter-sweet.  I was so happy to see him, but his absence during that scary time left me feeling vulnerable and alone.  Despite the incredible sacrifice he was willing to make for the people of the community; at that moment I wanted him to be my hero.  And I had a hard time settling for anything less.  I battled anger and feeling as though I had taken a back seat to the needs of the church.  

To be honest, I don’t think my feelings were wrong.  They were valid and real and led to some pretty important discussions between Barry and myself.  We had to decide for ourselves when the church would take precedence and when family should.  I needed to feel involved in future decisions and talking about our priorities made me feel much better. 

What about you?  Have any of you ever felt this way?  How did you handle the situation?

Shotgun For Sale

I was left home alone.  Let me just clarify something…I HATE being home alone.  So, in an effort to make me feel more secure, Barry showed me how to use a shotgun before he left for the week.  Okay, okay stop laughing!  It wasn’t loaded and to be honest, I had no idea where the bullets were.  But, I figured I could scare the crap out of someone if they broke into the house.  I’ve always wanted to be one of those sweet looking girls who could secretly kick butt.  So, this kinda satisfied the urge.  The only thing standing in my way of looking really cool was the fact that I was 6 months pregnant.  In order to get to the shotgun, I had to rummage through the pile of saltine crackers beside my bed and then sort of roll off of the mattress.  

Yeah, I practiced.  

Part of the ministry experience is a traveling husband.  They go to conferences and camps.  They speak at churches in different states and sometimes in different countries.  It just comes with the territory.  I’m blessed that Barry does very little traveling, but when he does I find myself struggling with fear.  I hate to admit it, but it’s true.  I’ve become so reliant on feeling safe and secure when Barry is home, I actually have to remind myself that the Lord is always with me.

For me personally, fear and worry have been a long-time battle.  When I was 13 years old  my mom and I lived in a rather shady part of East Dallas.  An area in which I would hate for my car to break down…much less actually reside there.  One night she had a meeting to attend at the church and I begged her to let me stay home by myself.  My great-grandmother lived with us, but she was out-of-town at the time.  So, I had the place all to myself.  I was lounging on the couch watching TV when I heard a knock at the door.  Figuring my mom forgot something I started making my way to the entry.  Before my hand even touched the door knob, I paused…I suddenly felt afraid.  I glanced to my left only to see a neighborhood drug addict peering through our living room window.  He starting yelling at me to open the door.  He knew I was home alone.  I ran to my bedroom and began frantically searching for the cordless phone.  All the while, he was pounding on each window and threatening to break in.  My heart was racing as I dialed 911…the police came, he ran off and no real damage was done…except for the fact that a tiny seed of fear was planted in my heart.  A seed that took root and produced fear, worry and anxiety in my mind.   

Can I tell you something…I hate that I am a fearful person.  Fear drains the life out of me.  And, not only does it influence my thoughts, but my decisions as well.  I would love to report to all of you that I have conquered this issue.   I would be thrilled to give you some cute quote or 5 step plan on how you can as well. 

But, the truth is…I’m still in the process. 

As I have committed this to the Lord in the last few years, I have felt a difference.  And for all of you that think I should see a counselor about that instance and my fearful mentality…don’t worry.  I have and still do from time to time.  Not to mention the wonderful friends that all know my struggle.  They remind me of God’s promises to watch over me and protect me.  They keep me focused on the truth and never judge my struggles.  Although, I’m often the topic of a good joke at dinner parties.  Each person taking turns guessing what weapon I’ve mastered lately.

Compared to where I was, I have grown leaps and bounds. But, despite my growth…I’m not there yet, not completely.  But, maybe one day in the not so distant future I can live fear free and will be able to fully rest in God’s protection when Barry is away from home. 

And maybe, just maybe…one day I will put the shotgun away for good.