My Absolute Worst Fear

I have a lot of fears. 

Someone taking one of my children (kidnapping/sex trafficking)... someone robbing them of their innocence while at a friends house... a fatal car accident while Mike is driving with all the kids and I'm the only one left or worse yet... Mike having an accident that puts me in single parent mode forever (I'd make a HORRID single parent - like I'd screw them up completely.) 

See? I told you. And that's only the few related to our little family. Trust me there's more; which begs a few questions: why do your children get on a school bus each morning? Why do they go to a friends house to play? How can you let your husband pull out of the driveway with all of your children in the backseat? What if... what IF you get that phone call from some random police officer telling you that they think they found your husbands car and all the car seats are filled but no one appears to be responding? 

How?! I trust Him... and He is g o o d. It may sound cliche but it's true. I cannot trust in the safety of our vehicles, the moral values of other families, the knowledge and quick-thinking of teachers or bus drivers, or even (as good at it is) the driving skills of my wonderful husband. I must trust my all-knowing, all-powerful God. I fight to keep that in my thoughts as I hear the news and horrors like Sandy Hook and sex-trafficking stats for the Super Bowl. Even as the FBI made that daring rescue of those 16 children and some 45 women during the Super Bowl, the danger IS real and each one of those scarred women and children has a name... and one could have been my beautiful daughter. It seems logical (at least to me) that since I have no real control over what calamities befall our family, I'm left needing desperately to trust in a good God who works all things for my good - His glory. 

But...

What about the things I CAN control? Somehow those things don't make my desperation list. Things like: writing, staying fit, time management, not yelling at my children... things I am continually working on. But I've realized lately,  I've got this idea that since "I" am somehow working on them, I don't really need to trust Him with them. 

Screwed up, I know. 

Another thought hit me right about when that one did: what if someone who knows me started reading my little blog? This person could be my neighbor or friend or family member... someone who knows me outside of this online place. Would they have an "ah-ha!" moment seeing the words I'm writing lived out in my life or would they say "Her writing is pretty good if you don't know her." 

I love to craft words so that the reader feels the irony or their heart wrenches with emotion or they find themselves bust out laughing at the humor of a situation. But that idea of my writing not matching my life to the point of someone being completely turned off to the Truth I treasure... well, it just freaks me out. I've even let that fear be the reason to quit trying. It's very hard to believe that I have something unique to say about, well, anything. 

Trust me, if you take a look at the archives, there are articles about Kony2012 and the 2012 election and many others. I have lots of opinions about everything from the State of the Union debacle, to the current boycott of Girl Scout cookies, to being a mom and making a difference in the world by doing the next load of laundry. But so does e v e r y b o d y else and their grandmother. 

This is where the trust thing comes in. I must trust Him still. Even in the things it appears I can control - because let's be honest... who can control time management when your preschooler decides to take grapes and bounce them all over the floor while laughing hysterically and when they squish? Well, suffice it to say, he laughed so hard he couldn't breathe. Yeah. My little plan of doing this thing then and getting that done now... not happening. Or staying fit when one of the children's very-deserved consequences inconveniences me. 

I must trust Him that He has given me this desire to write and ask Him to show me what to say. Using the gifts He has given me IS a way to bring Him glory. But I must keep myself face down in His presence knowing how easy it is to get full of myself and negate the very Truth I treasure. 

I guess fear isn't such a bad thing if we take the time to dig through the why and come face-to-face with the Who at the end. 

How about you?  Let's chat!! 

What fears do you need to dig through to find the why and see the Who? :)

Four-Eyed Dog Face

She was lost in her own world. She could hear the noisy chatter of the other kids in the hallway but only as through water. It didn’t matter to her that Tasia was tossing a lunchbox over her head or that Marcus was whispering behind his hand. She was just about to depart on a fantastic journey into her vivid imagination when her ears picked up that dreaded name that had somehow become synonymous with her own. She hated it. She wanted to disappear and never be seen again.
Why did having glasses and a name you could bark mean that it had to redefine your existence as a 5th grader? “Four-eyed Dog-Face” was certainly not written on her birth certificate.
She figured it was some kind of payback for gym class.
The teacher was preparing them for the annual field day at the local college. As they formed two parallel lines to compete in the 50yd dash, she just hoped she wouldn’t trip and make a fool of herself in front of the entire class. In a flash, she realized not only was she at the front of the line with the teacher about to blow the whistle, but Marcus was her opponent. Marcus, the fastest boy in the class and quite possibly the meanest, would not let her forget it if… well, she’d just rather not think about that right then.
The whistle blew and she was off like a shot. She gathered speed running on the balls of her feet and only slowed after she crossed the finish line. She didn’t even notice she was the first to cross the line until her team was screaming for her. Her elation vanished as she took in the anger and rage on his face as Marcus promised to get even with her.
All the rest of the day and evening, she worried. “What if he grabs some buddies and corners me somewhere and I can’t get any help? What if he follows me home from school and waits until I’m all alone? What if… “
She worried herself right into staying home from school 3 whole days. Her mother could not figure out what in the world was wrong with her: no fever but a continuous headache.
Finally, she told her mom about the race and the threat. Her mom made a couple phone calls and much to her dismay, she found herself at school the next day.
She walked to her locker, hung up her things to the whispers. She sat down and got her things ready for class to start and was glad that the words quieted as the teacher began. She learned that any amount of time spent in the hallway or playground was an opportunity to hear those words that hurt more than any punches thrown.
She also learned to see others who were picked on and began to help them instead of listen to those lies.
That 5^th grade girl grew up to one day have a classroom of her own. She couldn’t quite shake the hurt of the names so her heart was continually soft toward any hurts in her classroom or the playground. She built into her classroom the idea of a family. A family protects each other and doesn’t tear each other down. A family forgives even when hurt. A family is kind when others are not. A family is a safe place.
She later married. Recently, she heard her son scream at his sister some name he made up. The instant she heard it, she could almost hear those 5^th grade names. She looked into their sweet blue eyes and spoke from her scabbed-over hurt that every single person is a special creation God has made. When you call them a name or make-fun of them, you are doing so to their Creator. It is not funny nor is it ever EVER okay to call names. No matter what friend thinks it is funny, do not ever join in making fun of someone else. Stop it, instead. Learn to see someone else’s bad day and encourage them instead of tear them down.
So that “Four-eyed Dog Face” girl is trying to plant seeds of tenderness in her own children… and maybe even open an eye or two by sharing this story on her blog.