When I was
around six years old, I came to a terrifying conclusion about my life: one
day, I would die alone.
As the
youngest member of a family of seven, I reasoned that the rest of my family
would pass away one-by-one, oldest to youngest, because that was the natural
order of death…and eventually, I would be the only one left. I imagined myself
alone and scared, and this image seized me with terror. I was too young to understand
that I would one day have a family of my own, and I would make adult friends,
and I would likely never truly be alone. I was also too inexperienced with loss
to realize that the young often tragically die before the old. All I knew was
fear.
It would creep
up on me at night, this fear. I would lie in bed, petrified of losing my family,
of dying alone. Eventually, I must have learned that people don’t always die of
old age because I soon developed a new fear: fire. I imagined the house burning
down and trapping us inside. I would lie awake, heart racing, eyes blinking
into the darkness, fear paralyzing me.
By the
time I was ten, I began to fear death itself, along with the prospect of
eternity. That’s right: I was even scared of heaven! I would pace the floor of
my bedroom at night, flipping on a light to ease the panic setting in as I
contemplated heaven and the mysterious prospect of a life there that would
never end. I began to frequently knock on my parents’ door at night, seeking
comfort, until my mother eventually bought me a devotional book. She suggested
that when I started feeling scared, I could read some of the devotionals. This
was my first experience with the calming power of God’s Word. For the most
part, the devotionals did help. By focusing on the stories and the hope, I
could set my fears aside for a while.
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| This is the book my mom gave me - circa 1982!! |
I turn forty
in just a couple of months, and I only recently realized that fear has shadowed
my entire life.
As I
walked home from elementary school, I constantly convinced myself that a car
was following me, a kidnapper stalking. Some days, home alone after school, I
was certain that sounds from the laundry room were intruders. The sounds in the
attic – ghosts. One day, my father came home from work early, which was unusual.
Not expecting anyone in the home, but hearing footsteps on the stairs, I was
certain that my murder was imminent. I turned off my bedroom light and hid behind
my door, wishing I had a phone in my room. My palms were sweaty, my breath
coming in quick, terrified huffs. Then I heard my dad’s confused voice calling
my name.
When I was
twelve (wow, the bangs!), my mom had booked a trip to Arizona to visit her dad with my brother
and me. The night before our trip, I was overcome by fear that the plane was
going to crash. I was so convinced of the impending crash that I wrote a goodbye
letter in my diary that night.
At twenty-one, I purchased a town home and moved in. I was thrilled with my
independence…until the night came. Then, I couldn’t sleep. I would lie awake on
the third floor of my back-to-back town home and fixate on the realization that
if an intruder broke in, I would have no escape. I quickly called a security
company and had an alarm system installed. For weeks, I still couldn’t sleep –
petrified that I would wake one night to the sound of the alarm going off.
It is both
sad and a little comical to look back at some of my fears – some rational, some
not. In the woods, I feared bugs and bees and snakes and bears. At the beach, I
feared big waves and jellyfish and shore-swimming sharks. I heard about a terrible
escalator accident and I developed a fear of escalators. I got stuck in an
elevator alone, and I couldn’t step inside an elevator without fear for years.
But while
fear haunted me, I was also strangely adventurous. Perhaps that has something
to do with living in Thailand with my family for three years as a child and all
the traveling we did during that time period. Maybe it’s just a wanderlust I
was born with. When my husband and I were newly married, we would pull out a map
and search it for an interesting city name. Then we would go on a road trip. We
found some incredible sights that way. One Friday afternoon, we decided to take
a spontaneous trip to Niagara Falls. We lived in Maryland, and we started driving
in the early evening.
On our honeymoon, we booked an all-inclusive vacation at
a resort in the Riviera Maya (incidentally, where my new release, Shattered Trust, begins), and
signed up for several adventure tours that involved ziplining across a swamp teeming
with alligators, rappelling into a pitch black fresh water cenote, and
snorkeling in a very claustrophobic cave. A year later, we took a three-week
backpacking trip to Europe before the era of easy Internet and cell phone access.
We stayed in hostels and visited five countries.
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| Stonehenge, 2004. And yes, I pulled most of these photos straight out of my old scrapbook! |
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| Bruges, Belgium. Yes, I was pretending I did not know he was taking my photo. We ate at the most romantic restaurant we have ever experienced - sitting along the river, enjoying a three-course meal while swans floated by. |
Still, I
see the current of fear that kept its thumb on me. When my husband first became
ill in 2007, I faced real fear that wouldn’t let up. For a long while, I was
convinced he was dying and doctors were going to figure it out too late. I didn’t
know enough to pinpoint the more accurate fear: that this illness was going to
persist and steal many, many things from us.
But in all
those lingering memories of fear, there is absolutely nothing that compared to
the fear that shook me to my core when our daughter was diagnosed with cancer. This
fear? It was paralyzing. Consuming. I lived it. I breathed it. I fell asleep each
night clutching onto it, and I awoke each morning with it clutching onto me.
And then,
something shifted.
I don’t
know when it happened exactly, but I became acutely aware of the fact that I
was so terrified of the possibility of what the future might hold that I had
become blind. In giving into fear of the future, I was missing the gift of each
day.
I’m
working on a proposal for a new LIS series, and the three heroines each battle
fears of different kinds. Their fears so color their lives that they have forgotten
how to truly live.
I still
battle fear. Perhaps that’s why I have been exploring the emotion with these
new characters and story ideas. Every time we near our daughter’s scan day, I
begin to battle the fear of relapse. Every time my husband’s health takes a
turn, I battle too many fears to list here. In fact, since my last blog post, his
health has not improved. He has been unable to work for two solid months, and
the stress is compounding on all levels.
But I have
learned a few things about fear that have helped me fight.
First of all, fear is
not of God. (For
God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and
self-discipline - 2 Timothy 1:7). Second of all, as I learned as a child
when my mom gave me that devotional book, if I take the time to think about
good things, my fear lessens. (Finally,
brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever
is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any
excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The
things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these
things, and the God of peace will be with you. - Philippians 4:8-9). Finally, fear
is the absence of peace - and the Lord gives peace abundantly to drive out fear. (Peace
I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. – John 14:27).
I refuse
to throw today away for fear of what tomorrow may bring. The heroines that have
been taking shape in my imagination are beginning to agree with me. If you need
a practical suggestion for how to battle fear, listing gifts is pretty effective.
We are reminded countless times throughout the Bible to remember what the Lord
has done in our lives – His provision when we faced the impossible, His
guidance when we faced a decision, His presence when we faced loneliness, His
grace in response to our regret, His love when we felt the most unlovable, His
peace poured over us when peace made no sense at all. Wherever you are today,
may the Lord pour out His peace over your life and make His presence known.
Would you
join me in a list of gratitude today? Comment below with three to five things
you’re thankful for today – big or small. I’ll start:
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