When Fear Takes Over

April 14, 2013 by 10 Comments

As I wander in a fog off the heels of our first prom weekend, I’m preparing to speak this week at Jumping Tandem: The Retreat and visit England shortly after. This post is a visit to England almost a year ago and resonates through the conglomeration that is my current reality. Yep, fear is an unwelcome relative. I’m sharing it again, in hope that it will resonate with you too, whether you read it the first time, or with new eyes today. I look forward to sharing new thoughts on Wonderstruck this Wednesday. 

 rbfeartakesover
Arms wrap around shoulders and cheeks touch goodbye one last time before I crawl into the passenger seat next to H. “Go ahead and cry now, you know you want to,” he says as we back out of the driveway, young arms waving wildly on the front lawn. And I do, I want to cry . . . every time.

An anniversary trip to Europe sings joy until the suitcases of reality load in the trunk and we pull away from secure and predictable. Anxiety reminds of what I hold on to that needs letting go.

Because I can sink into the couch of a well-planned schedule – the way they like their eggs cooked,  sandwiches made, the laundry folded – and miss His pulling back the welcome curtain to the world that doesn’t look like us.

Finding security in control of the small and predictable in the everyday, it tricks me into thinking I have any control at all.

Until we touch down on English soil, walk through customs into a world of taking seats on the opposite side of experience. It’s then that fear, the invisible third person in the car, joins me as a passenger to driving on the other side of the road. We clench together stiff along the narrow, winding journey of beautiful change.

Fear whispers questions in my ear about what might happen. What if we have an accident, if he inadvertently pulls into the right lane when it should be the left? Or if we lose control driving at high speeds. What then?

And if fear sits beside me, freedom smiles next to H looking at me puzzled. Because freedom rooted in generations walking out their faith doesn’t speak the language of fear.

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Fear is my unwelcome relative, part of the family tree for generations that shows up unexpectedly to parties I host for risk and adventure. He weezles his way into crowded thoughts, plants doubt when no one is looking, then spreads out safe and secure like a picnic with a basket full of excuses.

And the only way to release him from lurking around in the kitchen of cooked up dreams is to send courage in to tell him to go home.

Courage is the humble guest that sees clear through crowded rooms of fear. He understands the purpose in risk and adventure, sacrifices Himself to get there for love.

I choose to follow Courage careening narrow along stone walls flanking green quilts dotted woolly white.  Walk over fear to the other side of predictable along cobblestone streets and underground stares.  He knows where He is going, the way to get there. And the path looks a lot like love.

The act of courage calls forth infallibly that deeper part of ourselves that supports and sustains us. ~Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

Does fear keep you from fulfilling dreams? From experiencing adventure?

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I’ve Got A Hunch

January 8, 2013 by 23 Comments

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Singing to the words on the overhead screen, Murielle leans over and whispers, “This song reminds me of our church in Phoenix.” That was over ten years ago.

She took me back to her six year old self in a whisper. Standing on risers, her arms folded underneath the oversized white robe, tinsel halo pushed on a crown of wispy curls as she sang We Three Kings of Orient Are among a throng of gap-toothed peers. I never thought I would be standing here now.

Almost a decade ago, we started our vacation on an island a thousand miles from home and bumped into a Bishop who my husband didn’t realize was trying to call him.  How his simple question – “Will you extend your vacation and visit a church a few hours away needing a pastor?” – led to a cross country move for our family. Like Mary and Joseph travelling to Bethlehem, we ended up in a place we never expected.

When we stood up to sing Here I Am to Worship she leaned over again and whispered in my ear, “This one reminds me of Morehead City.” The coastal community we traded for the desert; the one we never expected to leave so soon.

Five years after that cross country move, on the same day we celebrated our first worship service in the new church built with people we’d grown to love, another Bishop asked the same question. A question we’d grown to expect from God. Would you consider?

And we moved again. We never expected to reside in the place where we’d vacationed for years; the same seaside town where we bumped into that first Bishop who asked us to consider extending vacation.

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It’s late afternoon when my family stands huddled together in a borrowed chapel among two hundred friends displaced by a church vote. My daughter’s whispers are the resting spots between notes of realization. That dreams are harnessed when we learn to see beyond circumstance.

H and I, we’ve been doing this since we said, “I do.” Moving to new places, doing things some people call crazy.

We’re like the Magi who left home on a hunch to follow the Light, risking without certainty about the future. Because each time we embrace discernment, behold the unexpected without clarity or predictability, a defining moment greets us at the door. And like those three kings, we see extraordinary things others miss.

As I walk into the New Year, I never expected to be part of planting a new church, to lead a bible study, mentor teens,  be a content editor for a website, write an e-book, field writing invitations or speak at a retreat.  But then again, I’ve never confused home with where I’ve been, it’s always about where I’m going.

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As Holley Gerth says, “God-sized dreams aren’t really about size at all–they’re about embracing and pursuing the desires God has placed within your heart that perfectly fit who you are.”

Are you in a place you never expected?

Perhaps it’s the open flap on the envelope of promise.

Look! I’m doing a new thing; now it sprouts up; don’t you recognize it? I’m making a way in the desert, paths in the wilderness. ~Isaiah 43:19

Linking with Holley as she kicks off Saying“Yes” to a God-sized Dream in 2013. 

 

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Letting Go of the Schedule

October 3, 2012 by 34 Comments

It was just supposed to be a brief walk to charge my dead phone while we had a window of time. And the next thing I knew we were driving through water.

Deidra and I walked the wet gritty back to the house with computers hanging in bags over our shoulders so I could plug in my phone with a borrowed charger.  We met Marcus in the kitchen. He was opening pantry doors to find a glass, while his wife took a nap. He asked if we were interested in driving into Leakey, the little town closest to Laity Lodge.

I looked at Deidra while I catalogued the schedule in my mind. Thinking about the next session and conversations we might miss at the retreat if were gone too long. I let her decide.

She said she was game. I put on my tennis shoes.

We drove through the canyon floor of limestone covered in the Frio like water under cellophane. Pulled up to Leakey Mercantile, where time turned her head and laughed.

Deidra tried on cowboy hats. I scoured aisles of candy cigarettes and cans of green beans the size of tires. Marcus pointed out products on the wooden shelves that were made in Texas.

We stacked salsa, chips and ice cream on the counter under the smile of long-haired string beans wearing hunting caps and faded t-shirts. They held eye contact a bit longer than the customers before us.

I wore my nametag the whole time, forgot I had it on.

Marcus stopped at an overlook on the way back to take in the panoramic view of the 1900-acre ranch in the Hill country where we steeped in peace for three nights, storytelling about the generosity of the landowners as we snapped photos through the chain link.

When he discovered we hadn’t seen Blue Hole yet, we jumped in the car and kept driving. I looked at my watch. That’s when I let go of the schedule to see all of this:

Because sometimes you have to let go of agendas, to-do lists, schedules, and expectations you place on yourself in order to receive the gifts He picks out with you in mind.  

And to think I almost missed unwrapping the spontaneous memory I will hold close to my heart for years to come. I’m so glad Deidra said yes.

Do you have a hard time letting go of your schedule and lists to accomplish? How do you respond to unexpected “interruptions”?

This is the third post in the series 31 Days of Letting Go. You can read the collective here. If you are a writer, I invite you to link up your post on the topic in the comments on Friday of each week so we can glean from your perspective. Subscribe to receive the series in your inbox or feed by adding your address in the side bar under Follow Redemptions Beauty.

Linking with Ann and Emily.

 

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How the Sea Helps Me See

June 1, 2012 by 29 Comments

Almost a month ago, I stood on the banks of Ravenglass at twilight and England spoke of my destiny. I stood in the place where relatives of centuries left their imprint on the rocky shores beneath. Where the gales of hardship beat against the walls of fate but they still carried on.

The tide pulled her waters out to sea, left boats captive on shore waiting for her ripples to return. And I am mesmerized by this scene of tipped over sails like toys left stewn on the floor without hands to push them along.

“This is your life without my Spirit to guide you,” he whispers with each click of captured beauty. Grounded. Will you wait for me? The rushing waters of my Spirit will navigate to places you have never been before. We will move out together into uncharted waters of adventure.”

When life returns to grocery lists, soapy sinks, last minute school projects and waiting rooms of life, I walk along Atlantic shores of home.  Cast my cares out like fishing line searching for answers that float in deep water.

And just when I think my line is empty, nothing but the voice of the wind to fill my ears, I look to the horizon. Cup hands around eyes to see the outline of a boat headed out to sea. The rocking waves of His Spirit carried me here and the adventure he planned, it’s already under way.

I just couldn’t see past what was right in front of me.

I need the sea because it teaches me. ~Pablo Neruda

Joining Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday with the one word prompt: See. Also linking with Faith Filled Friday.

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When Fear Takes Over, Take Courage

May 14, 2012 by 103 Comments

Arms wrap around shoulders and cheeks touch goodbye one last time before I crawl into the passenger seat next to H. “Go ahead and cry now, you know you want to,” he says as we back out of the driveway, young arms waving wildly on the front lawn. And I do, I want to cry . . . every time.

An anniversary trip to Europe sings joy until the suitcases of reality load in the trunk and we pull away from secure and predictable. Anxiety reminds of what I hold on to, that needs letting go.

Because I can sink into the couch of a well-planned schedule – the way they like their eggs cooked,  sandwiches made, the laundry folded – and miss His pulling back the welcome curtain to the world that doesn’t look like us.

Finding security in control of the small in the everyday, it tricks me into thinking I have any control at all.

Until we touch down on English soil, walk through customs into a world of taking seats on the opposite side of experience. It’s then that fear, the invisible third person in the car, joins me as a passenger to driving on the other side of the road. We clench together stiff along the narrow, winding journey of beautiful change.

Fear whispers questions in my ear, about what might happen if we have an accident, if he inadvertently pulls into the right lane when it should be the left. Or if we lose control driving at high speed. What then? 

And if fear sits beside me, freedom smiles next to H looking at me puzzled. Because freedom rooted in generations of walking faith, it doesn’t speak the language of fear.

Fear is my unwelcome relative, part of the family tree for generations that shows up unexpectedly to parties I host for risk and adventure. He weezles his way into crowded thoughts, plants doubt when no one is looking, then spreads out safe and secure like a picnic with a basket full of excuses.

And the only way to release him from lurking around in the kitchen of cooked up dreams is to send courage in to tell him to go home.

Courage is the humble guest that sees clear through crowded rooms of fear. He understands the purpose in risk and adventure, sacrifices Himself to get there for love.

I choose to follow Courage careening narrow along stone walls flanking green quilt dotted woolly white.  Walk over fear to the other side of predictable along cobblestone streets and underground stares.  He knows where He is going, the way to get there. And the path looks a lot like love.

The act of courage calls forth infallibly that deeper part of ourselves that supports and sustains us. ~Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

Does fear keep you from fulfilling dreams? From experiencing adventure?

Counting gifts with Multitudes on Monday, giving thanks to change the way we see:

  • For my husband that was born with a GPS in his mind. The way he navigates, gets us around a country on the opposite side of experience with joy.
  • Harrison’s recovery from a mysterious virus that knocked him down for a month.
  • Geri, my mother-in-law, the way she takes care of things at home so we can travel free of mental lists and worry.
  • Sunny and dry weather in England, after a record month of rain.
  • Fresh croissants and scones with tea.
  • No cooking or dishes for ten days.
  • Staying at a castle the night of my 22nd wedding anniversary.
  • Geri brining my forgotten computer bag from home to the airport before our flight boarded.
  • That yummy English breakfast every.single.morning.
  • Seeing dear friends, hugging long, even if only for one hour.
  • Harrods displaying an ad on seven floors of escalators to the place where I live – irony.

Also linking with Playdates with God, Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday, Miscellany Monday, Just Write, On Your Heart Tuesday, Soli Deo Gloria, Better Mom Monday.

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