Tuesday, March 25, 2014


Fear...the other four letter F-word. The F-word we NEVER talk about.

I don't think I truly knew the meaning of fear until I became a Mama.

Sure, I have my irrational, childhood fears just like the next person. Don't laugh, but I can't watch ET. He's terrifying. I won't even eat Reese's pieces for fear that they will mystically summon his presence. Not really, but I honestly don't eat Reese's pieces.

Recently, I have been battling fear. Fear of SIDS. Fear of failure. Fear of sickness. Fear of separation.  I have more nightmares now than I did pre-Henry.  For me, fear is a living, breathing entity, that sulks around in dark corners, just waiting for any opportunity to creep into my life and take root in my soul.  Let me tell you, fear has deep roots.  Roots that wrap their way around your heart, incorporating into the things that you hold most dear.  Sometimes it can be difficult to separate fear from real life.

Since I've become a mama, nights have become scary times for me.  Nighttime is when I put Henry in another room and shut my own eyes, trusting that he will be happy and healthy the next morning.  Nighttime brings dark, quiet, loneliness.  We naturally fear the dark.  Kids grow up knowing that bedtime is a scary time.  It could be monsters under the bed, or a magic wolf that lives in the shadows and waits for you to move before it attacks you and tears you to pieces (I'm not speaking out of personal experience here...)  It seems like it is human nature to fear the dark.  This small fear points us toward Jesus, proving that we were created for a different place.

We crave light.  We crave warmth.  It comforts us.  It makes us feel safe.

When you fear the night, there is no greater comfort than the morning.  When I'm lying in bed, tossing and turning, I pray this verse over and over until I fall asleep.

"Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You."  Psalm 143:8

I've been thinking about fear lately because I'm starting to notice it in my son.

I took Henry on a walk recently and when a car drove by (too fast I might add...) he cried out of fear.
When Henry is in a large group of people and they shout or yell, he cries out of fear.
When Henry hears loud noises, such as banging or loud machines, he cries out of fear.

This is something I have only noticed in the past month.  It never occurred to me to think about when fears develop.  We certainly aren't born with them.

We weren't born with fear because we were never meant to live in fear.

Fear brings worry.  Worry brings doubt.  Doubt brings unbelief.  At the end of the day, our fears point to the weaknesses in our faith.  Isn't our God bigger than our fears?  Didn't He conquer this life, doing so by dying the worst death imaginable?

If nothing else, I hope I can teach Henry to live a fearless life.  I hope I can teach him that life is meant to be lived in utter abandon, that we are not meant to be crippled by our fears.  I want that kind of life for him, just as I want it for myself and every other believer.

No comments :

Post a Comment