Dear Fear,
I can remember the first time you made yourself known to me.
I was young. Very young. Maybe 2 or 3 years old. That night was a rough night in my house. One
that I wish everyday that I could forget. You remember that night well, I am
sure of it. It was the day you made yourself known.
Now, I have known you for so long that it feels as though
you have become a part of me. I don’t live with you, but I live IN you.
You are like an old tree with strong roots. They go deep, buried
beneath the surface. Although strong, your fruit is dead, your leaves have
withered, and you have taken me with you. People come and go, enjoy moments of happiness
as they swing from your branches, but they fail to see the decay that is going
on within. Threatening to end it all. No more place to visit, no more
happiness, only decay. Soon you will be but a stump and so will I.
I don’t particularly care for you and I so often wish that
you would take a hike.
You come, disguising yourself as a close companion. Composing
yourself in such a calm and collective fashion, offering a sense of security and
comfort for those who lean on you. You promise to be a familiar face, a blanket
of consistency, and an assurance that you will always be there if only we would
clothe ourselves in you.
Oh, but Fear, you are no companion of mine.
Why do you insist on being so scary?
Yet, everywhere I turn, there you seem to be. You are in the
eyes of my husband when I am sick and in pain. You have even found your way
into my love for him, as I want to grip on so hard, not wanting to think about
life without him. You are in my bank account, as I tithe first to the Lord and
trust that He will make the rest of our finances work as we pay bills and live.
I sense as our faithfulness in this grows, so tightens your grip. You are in my
family, as aging takes its place and I find the years with them growing
shorter. You are in my friendships, as some grow distance and we become
strangers. You are in every loss I have known in this life. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.
You are in every doctor’s appointment, every test, and every result. You are in
my thoughts and sometimes even show yourself in my prayers. You are in my very
reflection. As I look in the mirror and look over this body of mine. I see how
fragile it is yet how hard it fights. The last 8.5 years you have been more prevalent
than ever. You are in the thoughts of my future, as I mull over how long it will
last, rather than living it to the fullest.
You are in YOURSELF. I fear YOU, Fear.
You do not offer this life of mine any sense of security,
nor are you a blanket of consistency. As
I clothe myself in you, I find no other feeling, but suffocation. You steal my
very breath as you sit on my chest with the weight of a grown man.
I’m exhausted. I can’t keep going on like this. I believe it’s
time that we part ways.
It’s not me,
it’s you.
There are a lot of things in this life that my fragile body
can carry, but you are no longer one of those things. I know this may come as a
shock and you may even believe it won’t be possible for me to live without you,
but I must try. I am sure this will be a harder journey than most things this
life as thrown my way, but I will enjoy it more once you are not apart of it.
What is it that you fear?
If I had to guess, I would think that it is the idea that I
may be able to live without you. It
would be the huge smile I wear in a moment of absolute joy. It is my healthy marriage,
my sense of security, and our future together.
It is when the tithe is first, and every bill is paid. It is me enjoying
every minute with friends and family as a gift. It is my unreserved hopes and
my FIERCE dreams.
You probably fear my future. Don’t you? Because it’s big. It
has purpose. It’s planned. And it doesn’t include you.
When you are absent, there is room for the Lord. As you have
been present for far too long, there are deep places in my heart and soul that
have not experienced the light. They have been unrefined. It is time to allow
them to burn. Will it hurt? Like Hell.
Like Hell burning away to make room for light.
I want to breathe clearly. I desire to experience a joy
deeper than the surfaced, restrained joy that has that has been present in
things that I love, because of you. I want to sleep peaceful for the first time
in years. I want to bear fruit. I want
roots that produce life, not death.
I want to stare you in the face and tell you that as life is
lived, as people die, as my body withers, as cancer grows, as my marriage
struggles, as my future children make choices that are hard for me to watch, as
I push my body to limits it does not know, as I learn to love myself, as I KEEP GOING that you will NOT WIN.
There will be moments that you try and appear, grip, re-enter
a place that is no longer yours. In those moments, I will push back with
everything I have to live for.
I hope this scares you.
This journey to rid you from my life may not be easy. I will
not be perfect at it. It may take years. There is almost a part of me that fears
my life without you, because what will that look like?
But I know, don’t I?
It will look like life.
Consider this your eviction notice. There is no room here
for you anymore.
