I was left home alone. Let me just clarify something…I HATE being home alone. So, in an effort to make me feel more secure, Barry showed me how to use a shotgun before he left for the week. Okay, okay stop laughing! It wasn’t loaded and to be honest, I had no idea where the bullets were. But, I figured I could scare the crap out of someone if they broke into the house. I’ve always wanted to be one of those sweet looking girls who could secretly kick butt. So, this kinda satisfied the urge. The only thing standing in my way of looking really cool was the fact that I was 6 months pregnant. In order to get to the shotgun, I had to rummage through the pile of saltine crackers beside my bed and then sort of roll off of the mattress.
Yeah, I practiced. 🙂
Part of the ministry experience is a traveling husband. They go to conferences and camps. They speak at churches in different states and sometimes in different countries. It just comes with the territory. I’m blessed that Barry does very little traveling, but when he does I find myself struggling with fear. I hate to admit it, but it’s true. I’ve become so reliant on feeling safe and secure when Barry is home, I actually have to remind myself that the Lord is always with me.
For me personally, fear and worry have been a long-time battle. When I was 13 years old my mom and I lived in a rather shady part of East Dallas. An area in which I would hate for my car to break down…much less actually reside there. One night she had a meeting to attend at the church and I begged her to let me stay home by myself. My great-grandmother lived with us, but she was out-of-town at the time. So, I had the place all to myself. I was lounging on the couch watching TV when I heard a knock at the door. Figuring my mom forgot something I started making my way to the entry. Before my hand even touched the door knob, I paused…I suddenly felt afraid. I glanced to my left only to see a neighborhood drug addict peering through our living room window. He starting yelling at me to open the door. He knew I was home alone. I ran to my bedroom and began frantically searching for the cordless phone. All the while, he was pounding on each window and threatening to break in. My heart was racing as I dialed 911…the police came, he ran off and no real damage was done…except for the fact that a tiny seed of fear was planted in my heart. A seed that took root and produced fear, worry and anxiety in my mind.
Can I tell you something…I hate that I am a fearful person. Fear drains the life out of me. And, not only does it influence my thoughts, but my decisions as well. I would love to report to all of you that I have conquered this issue. I would be thrilled to give you some cute quote or 5 step plan on how you can as well.
But, the truth is…I’m still in the process.
As I have committed this to the Lord in the last few years, I have felt a difference. And for all of you that think I should see a counselor about that instance and my fearful mentality…don’t worry. I have and still do from time to time. Not to mention the wonderful friends that all know my struggle. They remind me of God’s promises to watch over me and protect me. They keep me focused on the truth and never judge my struggles. Although, I’m often the topic of a good joke at dinner parties. Each person taking turns guessing what weapon I’ve mastered lately.
Compared to where I was, I have grown leaps and bounds. But, despite my growth…I’m not there yet, not completely. But, maybe one day in the not so distant future I can live fear free and will be able to fully rest in God’s protection when Barry is away from home.
And maybe, just maybe…one day I will put the shotgun away for good.