Afraid?

I'm slightly afraid of eating Chia seeds. You know they're the latest thing in nutrition, right?  Yep, the same seed that grew plant "fur" on your ceramic "ch-ch-ch-Chia-pet" is now a nutritious snack supplement with all kinds of super-food qualities.  Here is what I'm afraid might happen: 1. The seeds sprout in my belly causing a weird, weedy situation down there.  2. (And this one is more probable.)  A seed gets stuck between two of my molars and suddenly sprouts a chia-pet right there in my mouth.  

Not a happy thought.

Afraid.

I was going to write: "I used to be very afraid as a child," but that’s not exactly true.  I think if I had been a truly “afraid child,” I would never have climbed trees, balanced on 6-foot high fences, gone skiing, or come up with a plan for entrapment of a flasher in the alley. (Long story).  I probably should have had some healthy fear in me when it came to those things.  But, I didn’t really go around feeling afraid about the stuff that could actually hurt me.  Instead, I was afraid of the stuff that couldn’t.

I was afraid of the dark.  And monsters.  And Freddy Kruger even though I had only seen the poster and not one second of the actual Nightmare on Elm Street movie…or was it Friday the 13^th?  I don’t really know.  But, I saw that guy’s face on a poster and never forgot it. 

I was especially afraid of the dark because I had a vivid imagination.  As soon as the lights were off, everything in my room became a terrifying blob out to get me in some super-sneaky, super slow way…so slow in fact, it was almost like they weren’t even moving….because they weren’t…because it wasn’t a monster at all, but a pile of clothes on my chair.  Classic stuff, I tell you.

Anyway, I’d do all the usual things—hide under my covers until I couldn’t breathe, finally come out to take a breath and then look over at the blackest corner of the room and definitely see some sort of scary thing standing there.  I was rarely brave enough to fly out of bed and turn on the light or even leave the room—sprinting the straight shot hallway to my mother’s room.   Instead, I’d scream for my mom so loudly and with such a truly terrified voice that she’d usually come flying into my room, turning the light on, and realizing all that the same time that there was no fire or blood or anything and then squinting in the dull light of the 60 watt bulb emanating from a frosted square light fixture which hung off-center on the ceiling of my room. 

She’d take a deep breath and sigh or maybe grit her teeth a little and do her best to comfort me, often perching there on the side of my bed softly singing and hoping I’d fall asleep soon.  I’m sure she prayed that I would not be so afraid.

I slept with my light on until I was 15.  Not a nightlight, but the actual, full-power, overhead light—ON.  All night.  It’s amazing how much safer I felt in the light.

Dark was my biggest fear.

Notice I said was my biggest fear.  Past tense.  That’s right, I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.  I guess that’s lucky since I’m almost 40.  Actually, I haven’t been afraid in years.  I’m not sure when I stopped being afraid.  Must have been sometime in college.  But, I do know why I’m not afraid.

Do you want to know why?  Well, let me tell you a story.  I’ve probably told it before.  But, bear with me. 

I was eight or nine years old.  Terrified of the dark (as I mentioned).  And also extremely attached to a particular blanket ("blankie"!) that I had to have to sleep.  Yes, I was probably too old for a blanket by then, but I slept with it until my senior year of high school, so there. 

Anyway, I NEEDED this blanket to be able to sleep.  So, one night, I realize that I had left blankie down stairs in the BASEMENT (which is where the TV was where we had probably watched cartoons that morning or He-Man and Duck Tales that afternoon.)  Now, we were upstairs—teeth brushed, PJ’s on, bed turned down, when I realized that I didn’t have my blanket.  I remembered where it was immediately and asked my mom to go get it.

Ha.

Side note—kid legs work way better and way faster at 8pm than adult legs do.  I know this now that I am a parent.  That is why kids are always called upon to “fetch” things even if both parent and child are sitting down in the exact same location.  No one is closer, but kid legs are faster.  It will always be this way until the end of time and we all have perfect bodies that can walk through walls and stuff.

Anyway, it was also not her blanket, it was my blanket—and everyone should be made to go get their own things if they leave them places.  (Except parents—they are allowed to ask kids to run get their things that they’ve left places because that’s the way in goes, as already mentioned.)

So, my mom scoffs at my request for her to go get my blanket and tells me that I must run down and get my own blanket.

Even though it was two flights down to the basement, I probably could have been there and back in less than a minute.  But, instead, I spent ten minutes (at least) arguing with and whining to my mom about who should get it.  I didn’t want to because A) it was dark down there.  B) No one was down there besides monsters.  And C) I would have to walk right past the FURNACE to get to the TV room where my blanket lay cold and lonely.  Yes, that’s right, before the movie Home Alone, I was scared of the furnace in the basement.  They probably stole that storyline straight from my brain.

Bottom line: I was NOT going down there.

But, guess what?  I went down there.   This is because my mom gave me a tool to not be so afraid.  I use it even now when I’m afraid.  I’ll tell it to you sometime, but not today.  Today, I have a different point.

Remember, I’m trying to tell you why I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.

Okay, so I run down, past the freaky furnace that nearly bites my leg off, I swear.  Turn on all the lights as I go (not turning them back off) and grab my blanket like it’s a game of capture the flag and then take the stairs two at a time until I’m back in my yellow room, panting, and hugging my blanket close to my heart, running my fingers down the edge of it like I always did. 

Now, I had begged my mom to get it for me.  She would not.  Not because she’s lazy (although, she may have been…I know this now that I am a mom,) but, because she wanted to empower me to face my fears. (I suppose). 

Anyway, that night of successful blanket-snatching did NOT cure me of my fear of the dark.  (Remember, I slept with the light on until sophomore year.)  It’s only now, all these years later that I know why I’m no longer afraid of the dark.

You see, if my mom had gone with me, I would not have had any trouble going down to the basement.  Nope, not one bit.  I mean, I would still have my fear of the big metal furnace, but I would have trotted by it as long as I could grip my mom’s hand and make sure she was between me and the freaky glowing teeth.  I would have flicked on the lights without a thought (my mom turning them off again on our way out,) pranced in and out of the room with my blanket, chatting to my mom the whole time.

Pretty brave!

Why?  Because she was with me. 

It took several years, but as I grew in my knowledge and relationship with the Lord, I’ve come to know, deep within the heart of my mind that He is with me.  Always.

And that is why I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.  And when I do get afraid about something or worried, and my mind starts to think freaky-furnace type thoughts, the Spirit reminds my mind about what is true.  God is with me. 

The other day, a friend told me that someone asked her an interesting question:  What is the bravest thing you’ve ever done?

I’ve heard it said that bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but it is doing the thing you are afraid of. 

If that’s the case, then it’s only God’s presence that has made me brave.  Knowing He is with me has allowed me to walk into all kinds of fear-ridden situations. 

How about you?  What are you afraid of?

A person?  A job?  A change?  A task?  A location?  An activity?  An interview?  A responsibility?

The future?  The present?  The weather? The dark? The homeless?  

Illness?  Injury?  Surgery?  Calamity?  Forgetting?  Remembering?  

Your mom?  Your dad?  Your kid? Your finances?

Being shot?  Being embarrassed?  Being left?

School?  Fire?  Flying?  Driving?  Swimming?  Falling?  

Dying?

Well, here is how you can be brave and do the thing that you are most afraid of:

Remember that He is with you.

Even now—outstretched hand as you walk by that furnace.  He’s helping you turn on lights and right wrongs.  He’s game to chat as you walk. He is with you.