Fear

I’ve heard “fear” defined as simply “the absence of love.” So, I started thinking about all the things for which my heart must be empty. Get ready ’cause here comes the list (in no particular order, and I reserve the right to edit it at any point):

-spiders

-scorpions

-snakes

-sharks (I blame it on “Jaws.”)

-fire ants

-hornets, wasps, etc. (I’m allergic. Have Epi-pen, will travel.)

-horror films (Seriously, how many Zombie movies do we need?)

-Cartoon Network (This generation of cartoons freaks me out. Dark, dark, dark!)

-opossums (They’re really mean and like sneaking in through doggie doors – not             making this up folks.)

-Chihuahuas (See note re:opossums; but they’re supposed to use doggie doors.)

-dying alone

-not having enough money

-really good looking men (Let’s just change that to men in general.)

-beautiful, polished women (especially en masse)

Now, I can understand if eyebrows get raised over the last two, because, I mean, really, they’re people, but come on, not normal people. This is not a new problem for me. There is something about beautiful people that sparkles, and whether it’s fair to them or not, they intimidate me; I’m afraid of their rejection. When I spot one, want to hide, scurry under the nearest table, preferably one with a very long skirt, so that I don’t have to confront my own fears and insecurities stirred by these unsuspecting individuals.

Don’t get me wrong, please. I know this is my problem. The racing heartbeat, cold sweat anxiety is juvenile – a carried over high school fear of the mean girls – but I also know it had improved. For several years it had been fine. Then BAM! – multiple, high degree, repeated rejection over years and years. But even at that, it is an excuse.

I had tea with a girlfriend last weekend, and we were discussing this very thing (Not the spiders and Cartoon Network). And as kindly as she could, she pointed out that this fear, this pushing away from the beautiful, was a self-centered reaction; I was more worried about my needs than anyone else’s. (Yes, I know I’ve had this revelation before, written about it, and still chosen to ignore it. More about repetition in a moment.) Had someone else said this, I probably would have been offended, but hearing it from this beautiful, sweet girl, I had to consider and then admit that she was completely correct. It was time to pull up those big girl pants and swallow down that fear (kind of like nausea). She gently reminded me that God brings people into our lives for purposes that sometimes only He will ever know, but if I’m hiding under the table, if I’m unavailable to God’s children by my choice, then I’m thwarting His purpose.

I don’t know if you recall, but several months ago I wrote about my nephew, Z, and how he literally crawled under his school desk during the beginning months of first grade whenever he was asked to do something he didn’t want to do. Yes, well, Z’s repeating first grade, bless his heart. Hmmmh…familial connection? embedded on the DNA? But the thing is, while I adore Z to distraction – literally (When he’s around you can’t take your eyes or ears off him or he’ll be rappelling from the second floor windows with your 1000 tc sheets), he didn’t learn what he needed to learn, didn’t fulfill his purposes in being there, and he thwarted the desired goals set for him while also hampering those around him by making himself unavailable. Thus, his need to repeat the lessons. Once he “gets it” he can move on.

I liked first grade, and the farther I’m away from it, the better it looks – no bills, somebody else does the grocery shopping, takes the dog to the vet, etc. – but, it’s time to view the world through adult eyes remembering that it’s not about me but about the assignment He’s given to me, at least as far as people go. It’s time to stop being afraid and to just love instead. That’s really what it’s about, right?

As for the rest of the list, well, I’ll deal with it at some point. I may need therapy for the cartoons, though, serious, in depth therapy. And I’m sure there will someday be an attorney with his face on the side of the bus ensuring us that if we’ve suffered at the hand of modern cartoons we can win millions in court. When you see that let me know, will you? If I see it first, I’ll let you know.