On Battling Fear - by Sara K. Parker

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.

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. 

Stonehenge, 2004. And yes, I pulled most of these photos straight out of my old scrapbook! 

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:

 P.S. I love to connect with readers. Come visit me on my Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/SaraKParker.author/

A Dollop of Gratitude by Laurel Blount

I have a confession: I’m a television show binger. When I find a program I love, I lose every scrap of self-discipline I have.

Please tell me I’m not the only person who’s like this.

Recently I stumbled across a British cooking show and decided to give it a try. I was instantly hooked.

It was fascinating. I watched as a dozen or so amateur bakers competed to successfully complete challenging assignments set by their two accomplished judges. At the end of each episode, one baker was spotlighted as the star and another one was sent home. These guys were incredibly good, and the dishes they had to create were amazingly difficult. Plus there was that whole fabulous British accent thing. I even found myself using expressions like spot on and simply scrummy, the highest compliment of all. (FYI, those things sound kind of strange combined with a Georgia accent.)

Anyway I adored that show—and that was a little strange too. I’m not usually a big fan of reality television programs. They seem to bring out the worst in people. Backbiting, jealousy, lying, betrayals…who needs more of that?

But this series was different.  As each competition warmed up, so did the affection between the contestants.

I watched as contestants held hands waiting for verdicts, celebrated with the spotlighted bakers and wept when a friend was sent home. I saw them come to each other’s rescue in tight spots, sometimes actually helping a competitor complete a dish. I saw them encourage each other through setbacks and cheer when a competitor got a handshake from a critical judge.

They gave their very best to their own work, sure, but they also wholeheartedly supported those working around them. It was beautiful to see. Don’t we all wish we had a community like that surrounding us?

You know what? I think Love Inspired authors kinda do. 

I've seen this group pray for and  encourage each other. I've watched them celebrate and sympathize with each other. I've also seen firsthand how welcoming they are to fledgling authors.

I love to tell this story.

Some years ago I attended my very first writing conference. I had just sold my debut book to Love Inspired, and I was brand spanking new to the writing world. I knew I had a lot to learn.

I nervously signed up for a pitch workshop because pitching (whatever that was) seemed like a really big deal. Better learn how to do that, right?

The workshop wasn’t what I’d expected. We were divided into very small groups. As in, mine consisted of me, one other writer and our assigned coach. Uh-oh--no hiding in the back row here! 

Secondly, that coach was none other than Debby Giusti, whom I knew only as a talented and prolific author for Love Inspired Suspense. I could barely focus on her pointers because I had to keep mentally pinching myself.

I’m sitting next to Debby Giusti. And she’s TALKING to me.

You can go ahead and laugh at me—Debby certainly chuckled when I told her about it later! She, of course, was gracious and kind, as Debby always is. When I stammered out how impressed I was by her, she leaned over and gave my arm a friendly squeeze.

“You just sold your first book to Love Inspired! I’m impressed by you, too!”

That story is the tip of a very large iceberg. As I said, I have met some of the most supportive and generous, faith-filled people through Love Inspired—and I’ve witnessed far too many of their kindnesses to list them all here.

Recently at a writing conference, I sat next to a lovely aspiring author at a luncheon. At one point, she leaned over and said, “I’m sorry if I seem a little weird. I’m just so excited. I can’t believe I’m sitting next to you!”

When I picked my jaw off the floor, I gave her arm a friendly squeeze and tried to do Debby proud. “I’m so excited to be sitting next to you, too!” She beamed, and I was so thankful for the opportunity to pass Debby's warm torch of welcome to another new writer.

So as we enter our Thanksgiving week here in the U.S., I’m going on record as saying that I’m grateful and proud to be cooking up my stories alongside some of the finest people in the business.

Because in my book all these ladies are simply scrummy!

Do you have a story like mine? Come on, spread a little love and tell us about it!