Fear Factor

This morning, after my son had pulled out of his parking spot and drove off to work at the ungodly hour of 5:30 AM, I remained standing outside on our tiny front steps, staring up at the moon. 

Even though he is almost 21, I still walk out with him, under the various guises of hanging up our decorative front porch flag, taking some early morning pics, or putting out the garbage and making sure the front door is locked. Sadly, over the past few years, our neighborhood seems to have become home to some pretty unsavory and even dangerous characters, and we’ve come to know the township police officers here on a first-name basis.

I heard a noise near our alley, and felt a chill hit me that didn’t come from the frigid morning temperatures. Literally frozen with fear, I couldn’t move. I held my breath and waited. Nothing happened. No one appeared. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I glanced back up in the sky towards the moon, which looked to be fighting to be seen amid some clouds and the tree branches, and this verse suddenly came to mind:

In this life, we never seem to run out of things to fear, do we? Whether due to bad, past experiences (our own or even someone else’s), or because of future unknowns/uncertainties, all of us have a fear factor. 

We don't like to admit it, but we're all afraid of SOMETHING. And, for the most part, not all of us are afraid of the same things.

Some people are afraid of heights (that would be me)

Some are afraid of insects or big dogs or bats (oh my!)

Other folks are afraid of flying, of driving in snowy/icy weather or across bridges, or of public speaking (me once again)

And still others are afraid of the dark or of thunderstorms

At times, it may feel as if our fears, much like the bare, spidery tree branches in the photo above, are reaching up, entangling us and choking the light and life right out of us. 

In the midst of moments or even seasons that appear to be or truly are dark and fearful, we may think "what to do?", as a friend’s son used to say when he was very small.

The only thing you CAN do when you’re afraid: put your trust in God.

Some time ago, not long after I was handed my breast cancer diagnosis and just before I was about to be wheeled into surgery because of it, I was handed something else. Psalm 56:3

“When I am afraid, I will trust in You.”

Being a still-wet-behind-the-ears follower of Jesus and pretty much new to Scripture PERIOD (let alone its memorization), I had never heard of this verse. But, like a drowning woman, I grabbed onto it like the lifeline that it was for me (and still is), and held on for dear life!

I repeated it over and over in my head as my journey to the operating room took an unexpected detour to a ‘holding room,’ because the results of an earlier, routine (but obviously pretty important) pre-admission test had not come back yet.

I whispered the verse out loud again and again as medical personnel scurried around me, checking my vitals, making frantic phone calls to the lab for those missing in action test results, and doing their best to reassure me that everything would be fine.

“When I am afraid, I will trust in You.”

But this verse REALLY hit home once I was finally brought into the blindingly bright and starkly sterile operating room as several folks from the surgical team lifted me off the gurney and placed me onto the hard, bare operating table, while two others each grabbed an arm of mine and stretched them out to insert more tubes and attach more wires.

It was a frightening moment for me, and a somewhat bizarre thought wormed its way into my brain. I wondered if Jesus had felt that same sickening fear overtake and overwhelm Him as the Roman soldiers stretched His arms out onto the cross? Could the Father have impressed these very words from the Psalms upon Jesus during His time of agony in the garden of Gethsemane? Did He bring them to mind as nails and hammers were poised above His hands and feet? 

Did KNOWING that He could COMPLETELY trust in His Abba bring Jesus some measure of comfort, peace and the strength to endure what was coming at that very moment?

Because they did for me. Those 9 simple words -- “When I am afraid, I will trust in You”  -- plus the realization that Jesus could relate to what I was going through (fear), supernaturally brought me to a place of peace, comfort and the strength to endure what was coming, at the same time removing that fear factor.

And just for the record: although it sounds absolutely unthinkable, outrageous, and even sacrilegious for me to compare my circumstance to Jesus’s, please know that is certainly NOT my intent here. I merely wish to share my thoughts from the moments before my surgery, and to point out that IF that small portion of Scripture had indeed invaded Jesus's thoughts that long ago Friday afternoon, I HAVE TO believe that He surely must have benefited from it as well.

I deposited that verse, securely and permanently, into my heart that day, carrying it with me as I headed off to surgery. I continued to carry it into the second surgery that came along 6 months later. It remained there through the upcoming, draining chemo treatments; through the endless, taxing tests and painful procedures that awaited down the road.

And for all the dark and scary situations and experiences that have confronted-- and continue to confront -- me and my family since then, it remains my ‘go to’ verse.

Beloved - maybe you’ve found yourself in the midst of a dark and scary situation right now:

• The loss of a loved one
• or of a job
• or of a home 
• The shattering of a marriage 
• or of a friendship
• or of a parent/child relationship 
• Or your own health or financial crisis

And that light at the end of the tunnel everyone speaks of?  It seems somewhat hazy and not very bright -- if it can be seen at all. That still, small voice of God others remind you to listen for can often barely be heard above the crashing waves and deafening claps of thunder in your life’s particular storms.

“When I am afraid, I will trust in You.”

Dear one – may I encourage you and urge you TODAY to grab hold of this verse with both hands? And don't EVER let go. Carry it close to you in the midst of fear and uncertainty; as you walk through the tunnel's darkness and maneuver the raging storms.

  

Memorize it

Meditate on it

Whisper it

Shout it

Believe it

Own it

It’s not a magical incantation. It’s a powerful statement of faith and trust in the only One Who can bring you out of darkness, shelter you in life's storms and factor out your fear. 

The Journaling Genesis

My bloggy BFF Dawn, over at Beneath The Surface  and HER bloggy pal Susie, from Recovering Church Lady  have joined forces (picture a bloggy Justice League!) to create "Random Journal Day" (insert fanfare here), where those of us out here in the blogosphere who also journal can select a random entry from one of our journals (be it new or ancient) and share it with each other.


I must admit, I initially balked at Dawn's invitation to give it a shot, post an entry and link up.  Who, me?  Really?  I know this sounds ridiculously childish. Because it is.  I mean, c'mon -- what's the big deal?  Here I am with a blog to which I frequently post stories of tears, fears, joys, victories, blessings and burdens -- and sometimes, things I'd much rather keep hidden away in the deeper, darker recesses of my heart and soul.  So what's the problem? 


Maybe I'm afraid that I'm not going to do this linking up thingie right. I've never done that before.  It's all new to me, and while I know that change is good, I generally shy away from it. 

Or maybe it's because I'm slightly embarrassed. When I began journaling in earnest, back in 2002, I hadn't really written ANYTHING since my high school days (way back before there was electricity, according to my darling teen daughter).  Looking over these early journal entries, they look so....crude, adolescent and amateurish.  I shared with Dawn that to me, this was akin to me jumping off the high dive -- but not being able to swim, while the hunky lifeguard is distracted, totally engrossed in convo with some little bikini babe.


But -- enough whining and hedging. I'm holding my breath and diving in!

Ok, seriously now....how pathetic is THIS?? My first journal
and this is what I grabbed for?  My creative spirit must have
been in a dead slumber at that moment.  Not a picture or sticker
to be found on this bad boy. 

November 7, 2002 -- My first journal and an entry made two weeks after receiving my diagnosis of an aggressive form of breast cancer at age 45 AND less than a year after coming to know Jesus as my Savior.  A dear friend who was my neighbor and the director of my children's preschool, had been given her own cancer diagnosis not long before mine.  She encouraged me to start a journal, simply writing down what was going on in my life, what I was thinking and how I felt, etc.  But it actually became so much more than that; it became my journey to a closer walk with Jesus:


"Happiness comes from smooth and happy circumstances; but real joy comes from trusting in Christ.  Joy is a quiet confidence, an inner peace that comes from knowing Christ.  We can lose our happiness when trouble comes into our lives -- and it WILL come! -- but it can't take our joy away.  As long as we have faith, hope and trust in the Lord, and continue to seek His face.


The most powerful testimony I can give is a godly life -- to let my life be an example of Jesus and His love.  Especially now, with this diagnosis of breast cancer.  What a curve ball I've been hit with that could fell me if I let it.  I could turn inward and become an angry, bitter person, shaking my fist at God and handing out engraved invitations to my pity party.  Or, I could give this ALL to the Lord -- leaning on Him, trusting that He knows what's best for me, and showing everyone, by how I present myself to them, (how I talk and how I react to the sure-to-come difficult situations), that Christ is in me.

Wow -- that was 10 years ago, and I'm happy to say, I'm still cancer-free, praise God!  But WHAT a long, unexpected journey that turned out to be. There were lots of dark, mountainous roads, pitfalls and scary detours.  Many, many times my walk with Christ looked more like a limp and on my worst days, a slow crawl. Yet those were the days that I felt His Presence the most, carrying me through.  And there were also so many joys, blessings, victories and lessons learned along the way. Journaling through it all helped me to keep my perspective -- my mind centered on what and Who was most important, my eyes on Jesus.


I often wonder what my life would have looked like, dealing with cancer, had I turned down Jesus's invitation to come to Him and turned away from His promise that "you will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart" (Jeremiah 29:13), choosing instead to do it all on my own.


I shudder to think of how things could have turned out. And thank God for how they actually did.     

My Precious Moments keepsake statue; a gift from a friend
during my time in Cancer Land. It's called, appropriately
enough, "Life Is Worth Fighting For."

And even though I’m walkin’ through 
The valley of the shadow 
I will hold tight to the hand of Him 
Whose love will comfort me 
And when all hope is gone 
And I’ve been wounded in the battle 
He is all the strength that I will 
Ever need 
And He will carry me ~ He Will Carry Me, by Mark Schultz

Legacy

For I am already about to be sacrificed [my life is about to be poured out as a drink offering]; the time of my [spirit's] release [from the body] is at hand and I will soon go free. ~ 2 Timothy 4:6, AMP

Yesterday, I attended the going home service of my beautiful friend, Daveida Wallace, joining together with several hundred other people, to bid her farewell. 

It's been my honor, privilege and delight to be a part of Daveida's life -- not only to have been her friend and to have loved and served her, but to have been loved and served by her. This woman made such an impact on my life and the lives of so many others.  We had only met back in September of 2010, but I felt like I had known her my whole life.  

At the time, neither of us had a clue as to just how entwined our lives would become.   

Daveida was a mother of three, a woman who had been battling breast cancer for some time; she was in pain, exhausted and had been told by her doctors that she'd be lucky if she made it to October.  She was simply looking for help with meals to give her overwhelmed family members a break when she reached out to our pastor for help, who in turn, shared her story and request with my friend Michelle and I, both of us being breast cancer survivors ourselves.  

Daveida told us later she had no great expectations of anything other than a few weeks worth of meals, and perhaps the pastor stopping by once or twice to pray and share some Scripture with her.  She never expected two survivors to come her way and wind up as friends. 

Michelle and I had similar non-expectations.  Even though we'd survived our own cancer journeys, that Saturday morning in September we showed up on Daveida's doorstep, we really weren't sure WHAT to expect as we eyed up the "No Smoking--Oxygen In Use" sign attached to the front door.  I remember the both of us taking a collective breath as we got ready to knock on her door, as if we were preparing to dive into unchartered waters. 

When the door opened, we were greeted by a waif of a woman with barely-there hair, and huge sunken eyes, lugging an oxygen tank behind her. We had to strain to hear her breathless voice as she welcomed us into her home, shared her story, and just before we were ready to go, whispered a prayer over US!


Later that day, though, feeling SO overwhelmed by her many needs, Michelle and I realized something.  We felt -- beyond blessed!!  How was THAT even possible? 

We went to be a blessing to Daveida, but walked away having the tables turned on us. 

Every time we met with her, it was like that. Not just for us, but for everyone else who came to know her in the weeks and months that followed.  Because, thanks be to God, October came and went and our delightful new friend remained among us, defying the doctors dire predictions! (That's our beautiful Dee in the middle, top row!)

Daveida wrote to me once that we'd be sisters forever.  And that will not change just because she has left this world. In fact, I feel an even more special, sisterly connection to her because she passed away on my birthday.  No, I am not angry, hurt, upset by that fact. Because I know that Daveida's with her Savior, Jesus Christ.  She is FREE -- free from all hurt, pain, discouragement, sorrow, disease.  And that is something to celebrate.  Her birth into new life!


For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that  is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God Himself and not by human hands.  We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing.  For we will put on heavenly bodies; we will not be spirits without bodies.  While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it's not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us.  Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life. ~ 2 Corinthians 5:1-4, NLT


The soul of this precious woman left her body last Thursday evening and headed for her new home -- her home with Jesus.  However, Daveida didn't just leave behind a weary body. She didn't just leave behind a grieving group of family and friends.  She didn't just leave behind memories of brighter, happier, healthier days. No, she left behind much more than that.  

Daveida Wallace left behind a legacy.  

A legacy of love and service to others in need.  A legacy of perseverance and strength in the midst of pain and suffering.  A legacy of encouragement and hope, comfort and joy.   And she didn't leave it laying by the wayside for all of us to look at or comment on or weep over. 


Absolutely NOT!  This woman of faith left behind a legacy for all of us to grab a piece of and run with.  Just like she did.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. ~ 2 Timothy 4:7, NIV


As hard as this seems and as much as it hurts for us who loved her dearly, we are called to carry on Daveida's legacy. Pressing on.  Moving forward.  Leaning on our Lord Jesus Christ all the way, following in His steps, like she did.  And we are to lean on one another as well.

Daveida didn't look at life as something to 'get through,' but as a gift to be enjoyed, savored and shared.  

She was pleased and content to be a humble, obedient servant of the Lord, avoiding the limelight and applause, choosing instead to work behind the scenes.  My friend wasn't looking for acknowledgement or accolades or other people's approval.  She was simply doing what every humble, obedient servant of the Lord and child of the Most High God does: shining her light of love in the dark places of this world. 

Last week, Daveida's light was gently, quietly extinguished by her Father God.  

But not before He made sure each one of us who knew her and loved her were touched by that light and have added a portion of her flame to our own that burns for Jesus.  To make our flames that much brighter as we also shine our lights in the dark places of this world. 

May my sister's legacy continue on in all of us.  


Daveida Wallace:
Daughter
Sister
Mom
Grandmom
Auntie
Godmother
Coworker
Friend
Daughter of the King
Good and Faithful Servant
Beloved

I will miss you so much, dear sweet friend.  Sisters forever!!


Until we meet again.................  


I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?  Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who
blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy ~ Legacy, by Nicole Nordeman