Fear and worry: Subdue and Conquer

My last post dealt with fear and Philippians.  This time, I'm going to share with you how I've learned to deal with fear.  Please remember, though, that I'm not claiming to have overcome it.  I don't know if anyone absolutely overcomes fear.  I walk through it and have learned not to let it torment me.

First of all, name it.  You have this heavy feeling pressing down on you and making you feel anxious.  Why?  What is causing it?  Sometimes you know; sometimes you don't.  If you don't, ask the Lord to help you see.

I'm a big proponent of naming.  I think that if you are fighting something that doesn't have a name, you are giving all power over to your opponent and have already lost.  For example, as I sit here typing, I have a weight in my heart.  I could choose to ignore it, hoping it will go away on its own--bad idea.  I would go through my whole day anxious and depressed, wondering about that weight.  Instead, I did a little reflection and realized that there are several things weighing me down this morning.  First, I woke up early today and have a long day ahead of me.  Second, I have a rehearsal tonight that I haven't adequately prepared for.  Third, I am going to report on a concert tomorrow and feel woefully unprepared (I'm a perfectionist and as such have problems with my first time of doing anything.)

Having realized the issues that are weighing me down, I can now name them:  dread of the upcoming day, lack of preparation, and fear of failure.  As I write these words down, I already feel lighter.  There is a solution for each of these problems.

First of all, the dread of the day.  Go straight to the Bible, since only God can help there.
Isaiah 41:10  fear not, for I am with you;  be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you,  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 40:28-31  Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God,   the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint,   and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary,and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength;   they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary;   they shall walk and not faint.

Having understood this truth, I can now go to the physical aspect.  My eyes are sore, and even if I'm not tired, sore eyes make me feel so.  Since I have glaucoma, I take eye drops that dry out my eyes and make them sore.  So I remind myself to take my drops with me and use them when I feel tired during the day.  I did this just now, and I'm already feeling better!

Next, lack of preparation.  That one is easy.  I always worry about this before a rehearsal, and it's really not true.  I have prepared, I just haven't done so in the past week.  So today while I work, I will find my solos on Youtube and play them as I grade papers.  Hearing the soloist will cement my own part, and I will feel more confident tonight.

Finally, fear of failure.  Back to the same verse as before: 
Isaiah 41:10  fear not, for I am with you;  be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you,  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Next, I remind myself that I have a meeting today with my supervisor, who will work with me to strengthen my article questions and help me be successful.  I don't have to do this alone.  Finally, I need to realize that I'm not in an adversarial relationship with my subject.  They want the article to succeed as much as I do.  So if I have questions or further research that I need to do, I can call them and they will help me. 

Franklin Roosevelt said that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.  That is so true.  If we name the fear, we have already gone far towards winning our battle.  Nebulous anxiety is able to overcome and overwhelm; fear that is named becomes a problem to be solved.

But what about fears that don't have easy fixes? I will look at that in the next post.

Nothing to fear...

As a Christian, I've heard the verses.  I've memorized them, kept them in my heart for such a time as this.  "Be anxious for nothing...fear not...be not afraid...and maybe the best of all--God gave us not a spirit of fear but of power and love and self control.

I hope you will forgive me, but in this case, I get more insight from Franklin D. Roosevelt.  He said, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself."  This is very very true, and for no one more than for me.  I've lived my life fighting fear, and I've lost more often than I've won.  Fear has immobilized me, kept me from achieving my dreams and goals, deprived me of joy and peace, and just basically ruined my life.  I used to live each day in fear. I was anxious about everything.  I worried about my kids and their decisions.  I was afraid that someone would commit suicide when they were having a bad day.  I would check my bank account several times a day, afraid that I had made some sort of mistake and had no money (of course, sometimes I was right to be afraid about that, but still...)--in short, there was really nothing in my life that didn't fill me with fear or anxiety.

For many years, I really didn't know how to fight this fear.  Then came the year that I felt I had to leave my job.  I knew that I couldn't stay there because of the way that they were doing business, so I followed what I believed was God's leading and quit.  As a teacher, of course, I was committed to stay through the year, but I had no idea what would happen after that.  For a widow with a son who would be starting high school, that's a scary place to be.  I tried to find jobs in Bakersfield, but it was too late.  People look for work in teaching in January, and this was April.  The jobs had been filled.  I started casting my net, first outside Bakersfield, then outside California.  There were interested replies, but nobody had offered me a job yet, and I was scheduled to go with my son to the Dominican Republic for a mission trip.

In the DR, I learned many things, some good and some bad.  In looking for answers to my dilemma, I thought that maybe God had something for me there.  Nope.  I tried to put myself into my work, but the fear was overwhelming.  Then I got a voice mail from my daughter.  They had promised to care for my dog, but they were moving to northern California!  They promised me that their friend would take care of him, but the fear quickly became overwhelming.

Luckily for me, the Bible study that was an ongoing part of the mission trip was on Philippians.   "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, in prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your request be known before God.  And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will fill your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus (Phil 4: 6-7).

Now, as a rule, I don't memorize scripture.  Not sure why--I just don't.  But this verse, I memorized.  Not only did I memorize it, but I learned a few things that I applied to it.  First of all, I realized that the verses really should be read backwards.  The part "be anxious for nothing" is the RESULT of making your request known with prayer and supplication to Jesus.  Doing it WITH THANKSGIVING is important.  If you don't thank him for the situation, you aren't really and truly turning it over to him.  This situation, as stressful and horrible as it might seem, is another opportunity for him to show his strength and his love for you. And as a result, you will have-not necessarily the solution-but PEACE.  And peace is so important.  The peace of God allows you to continue walking when weaker men would fall.  It allows you contentment in the midst of trouble.  It gives you comfort so that you can walk away from fear and anxiety in the knowledge that God loves you and still has a plan for your life.

Next:  how to deal with fear in your life--a plan to conquer and subdue.

willing it to rain

Dear Friends,

All day today, I've been wishing that it would rain.  As I went about my day with this thought, God began shaping this poem within me.  It is in the first person, though I personally am not called to the mission field (at this time).  I've gone before, but right now, this is my call:  to serve him in writing and use my hands to trumpet God's words.

In the beginning, the desire was to stay out of the rain.

The rain of the spirit was all around--

I knew about prostitution, about the invisible children, about the orphans in Africa--

But I felt no desire to get my feet wet.

"Oh, no.  The rain is all wet and nasty.  

Others are interested,

Others don't mind getting soaked 

But I'm afraid.

If I get too close, 

I might get sick,

and that would never do."

But as time went on,

I felt the dryness of my soul,

and almost unbidden,

the thought came,

"Lord, I wish it would rain."

There was nothing wrong, really.

I was not wandering in a barren wasteland.

There were lush gardens,

Well-manicured lawns

and fat and happy people 

just like me

to all sides.

But I couldn't help thinking

that there was something missing,

that somehow things could be

well, better

if only it would rain.

I would read about rain online,

Others in the midst of a perpetual downfall would write about it.

My friends on Facebook would talk about their storms,

the midnight vigils downtown, 

seeking and saving those caught in human trafficking,

the meetings at church

getting ready for a summer building hope in Mexico,

the pleas for help

from others caught in a deluge of need and needing support.

And I would virtually get a pinky toe wet.

Praying for my brothers and sisters online.

Sometimes I could even feel the mist,

the slightest taste of the rain of the spirit that they were experiencing,

and for a time,

I was satisfied.

But then the desire came stronger.

Reading was no longer enough.

Lord, I need it to rain.

I actually want it to rain

on me!

And so, cautiously, I went in search of rain,

umbrella at the ready.

I went to meetings given by missionaries in Africa

and as they spoke,

the rain began to descend.  

The majority of us listeners put up our umbrellas,

prepared to be part of the rain,

but not yet ready to actually be in it.

However, we all felt the rain

as we reached into our purses and gave money 

(braving the rain to take the collection plate).

I talked with my friend about Magdalene Hope

and as she spoke with delight about helping those caught up in trafficking,

the rain of the spirit welled up and over

and threatened to inhabit me as well,

but I wasn't ready.

I backed away,

Safe in the vacuum of,

"Sister, I'll pray for you."

And as I left, I thought,

"Well, that was close!"

But there's the problem.

With my new understanding,

I no longer could ignore what was happening.

I'd never noticed it before,

But it was raining all around me.

People were in all stages of accepting the rain,

Some running with newspapers over their heads,

trying to stay dry.

Others were walking with overshoes and slickers,

Bustling and happy in God's service.

Still others were slogging in rain-drenched dirt 

that stuck to them and pulled on them

so that they were in danger of being sucked in--

Why was nobody at their side to help?

That's when I realized--

Nobody was at their side, 

because we were too busy

no, I was too busy

trying to stay out of the rain.

So here I am,

No hat, 

no overshoes, 

nothing but my spirit overflowing with Your love,

and saying

at last,

Lord, I NEED YOUR RAIN.

Let it come down on me,

Overwhelm me,

Overcome my fears

my phobias,

my sophisticated sense of "not me".

Let it rain on me,

Now.

Amen.

Transitions (making sense of the walk toward death)

Do you remember that moment when you knew you were going to give birth--that today was the day?  I understand that everyone's feelings are different, but I know that at least for me there was a sense of anticipation, of awe, and of the sense that something sacred and blessed was about to begin.

Then there's the transition from single to married.  You are walking step by step toward your wedding day.  At first, it's so far in the future that it seems unreal in a way, but as the days, weeks, and months pass, you become more and more aware that this is it--the moment that you've dreamed about your whole life is here, and you again feel anticipation, awe, and the sense that your world was about to change forever, and something sacred and blessed was about to begin.

So why isn't there that feeling in death?  It's another transition, isn't it?  I realize that I'm speaking about vastly different things to different people.  If your loved one was murdered or died in an accident or a sudden illness, of course there can be almost no transition.  It's sudden and unexpected and devastating in its intensity.  But the majority of people, I think, die differently.  There is a process, much like giving birth or getting married, where you have time to understand, to fully prepare, and to await the transition with a holy expectancy.

As I write these words, I can hear you.  You're thinking, 'Holy expectancy?  That's crazy!' But really, it isn't.  We are the crazy ones.  We ignore death for most of our lives, and when we see its face, we do everything that we can to disguise it, to separate ourselves from it--to pretend that it isn't really death.  We keep our loved ones in the hospital when they could be at home.  We keep them on life support when they could be released.  We try as hard as we can to put off the moment, and when it does come, we dress our dead in their Sunday best--no, strike that--the hospital sends the body to the funeral home and IT dresses them in their Sunday best.  When we see them, they are a parody of the person that we knew--made up with rouge and foundation and blush to hide the true skin color--the pall of death.  We gaze fondly at them in their coffin, so lifelike that we have trouble believing that their chests aren't moving up and down, and then we speak holy words over them and put them into the ground.

It didn't used to be this way.  Our ancestors cared for their sick at home.  They died at home.  They were taken into a sitting room, a coffin was made by the undertaker, usually a carpenter, then  brought to the house, and they lay in state there until time for the funeral, when the hearse would bear them first to the church then the cemetery.

But what about this sense of expectancy that I was talking about?  Is it morbid to think that there should be one as a person dies?  As a Christian, isn't a holy death the transition from a life on Earth to everlasting life with Christ, and shouldn't that be a joyous affair?  Every time I think about this, I remember my son's death.  His whole span of life was only eleven days, and most of those days were spent in horror and tears and at the same time a rugged hope that refused to leave, even though we knew from the beginning that his chances were pretty much nonexistent.  Looking at it today, I know that we were in denial for much of that time.  I choose not to wonder about the alternatives--how the transition would have been if we had realized the situation and allowed him to simply cease to be rather than insisting on respirator and heroic measures.  I can't wonder--we made our choice and Tommy lived as long as he did because of it.  But as he was dying, there was a sudden burst of activity and I was excited--a muddle of excitement to finally hold my baby and terror at his death, something that I definitely didn't want.  When I held him, my soul felt the transition.  It felt him leave his body and go to be with God.  I believe I was even granted a vision of that departure.  It didn't do away with the grief and the misery of the months to come, but it was something that has never left me.  It was both a horrible and somehow a joyful time.

On NPR today, Lucia Maya spoke of this transition with her daughter, Elizabeth Blue.  She had cancer, and her mother was with her in the ICU.  They had tried all sorts of life-saving things, but finally she realized that her daughter was done.  She asked if they should consider hospice, and then and only then did the hospital agree with her.  They didn't raise the issue; she did.  The daughter soon returned home, and she and her mother were able to share time before she died:  writing together, being together, speaking about things that were important.  When her daughter died, family readied the body, family and friends had a service, and the family even brought the body of their beloved daughter to be cremated.      You can read about her story here  http://luminousblue5.com/2014/01/ .

Now as for the sense of holy expectancy, I just wonder if we are missing something.  When I think about my own death, it's with this same sense of anticipation as I felt when awaiting marriage or childbirth.  An enormous, wonderful change is about to come.  Why can't we feel that when awaiting the death of our elders, of those who are soon to be released from the devastation of disease, of those who are soon to be reunited with God?  It's an obvious answer, isn't it.  It's not our journey.  It's theirs.  But we can share in the journey and help them on their way.  We can choose to be part of it or we can choose to shield ourselves from it and leave our loved ones to die on their own.  But it is a choice.  There are groups that can come to the bedside of the loved one and sing them on their way and through this final transition, such as Threshold Singers.  We can choose to take the risk of allowing ourselves to carry the burden of a hospital bed in our front room so that our parents don't have to die alone.  I didn't do that.  I wish I had had the nerve to.

Thanks for reading along with me as I tried to make sense of this.  This post is as much for me as for any of you--maybe more.  I just have this feeling--can't we do more--be more--have more understanding of the joyfulness of the time of transition?  Maybe we can, and maybe God will allow us to experience the peace of his love in the midst of it.

The day to day

I do pretty much the same thing every day.  I get up at 5:30, give the dog his medicine, make coffee (this is essential on weekdays), take my medicine, go on the computer, check email, make breakfast, and then check Facebook, coffee and bagel in hand.  After that, school. Normally I would squeeze in a walk with the dog, but he refuses to go out in the cold morning, so I've given up and put out pads until February or so.  At school, I spend the majority of my day alone--just me and 130 students:  teens with the requisite temper and angst and drama and behavior issues.  After that, home again.  I either pick something up or make something at home, and then spend my evenings either watching TV (current obsession:  The Walking Dead.  Thanks, Jeremy!) or working on the computer.  Weekend is more of the same.

So why am I so content?  How is it that this weekly monotony doesn't make me crazy?

Very simple.  I don't live in the day-to-day.  I don't live in the routine.  I live inside my head, and inside my head is a beautiful place.  God dwells within me, and he gives me lovely thoughts, beautiful songs, and interesting things to ponder.  I have little need of anything outside my world, since God beautifully inhabits my universe.

I'm not saying that your world with all its noise and gaiety and people and busy-ness isn't perfect.  I'm sure it is--for you.  However, it isn't a good fit for me.  In fact,  it draws so much out of me that it takes days to bring me back to full energy.  I love that you love your world, but I'm satisfied with my own.

How I spent my Christmas vacation

School got out on Thursday, and by Friday morning at 7am, I was on my way.  I am learning to be myself, and these solo trips are helping immensely. Well, I can't say solo, exactly, since Frank The Dog was there with me.  I feel uncomfortable leaving him in a kennel because of his disability.  We started from Tucson, heading first for Bakersfield, then Susanville, then Bakersfield again. My goal was to visit my 4 children, 11 grandchildren, and to get at least one door fixed on my poor sad car.

The ride to Bakersfield was uneventful.  I went up the 10 to the 5, and I was surprised at how little traffic there was.  Driving through Phoenix and Los Angeles, I was once again reminded of how much I have grown.  Twenty years ago when my husband died, I was afraid to drive for any length of time, and I was terrified of large cities and their traffic.  Now I relish it.

I arrived at Bakersfield and within the hour was at my grandson Daniel's birthday party.  Seeing my son Jeremy and daughter-in-law Michelle was great, though I was sad that Jeremy was still sick.  Amber and Daniel, though, were happy and full of fun.  However, I was too tired and soon left for my friend's home and her comfy bed.

Over the weekend, I had time to visit my son Val and his family, but all too soon it was Monday, and I hurried off to Susanville to visit my daughter and her family, as well as my son David.  Luckily for me (but unluckily for California), there was no snow and so no need for chains.  My granddaughter Thalia came with me.  I had forgotten what it was like to have a young teen with me.  Thalia is like me--very quiet.  She came with me, but stayed pretty absorbed in her phone the whole way up.

Emily and David recently moved.  They used to live in Greenville, a sweet little town in the middle of the forest, and to get there you go through an amazing canyon with spectacular views throughout.  Susanville is about an hour away from Greenville, but it is a whole different world, since it's high desert--the back of the mountain.  It was a different drive, but still pretty.  Another thing that I'm learning about myself is that I am attracted to desert--the starkness attracts me.

We stayed in Susanville through Christmas week, coming home on Sunday.  I was sad that Matthew, the youngest, had forgotten me, but that just tells me to be sure and speak with him more on Facetime.  I will see him again--I have a whole lifetime.  It was great to see how Michael has grown and what a creative young man he is growing up to be.

Coming back to Bakersfield, I had more chance to visit with Jeremy and Val and their families, as well as to sample some of the new restaurants.  Downtown Bakersfield is changing, and there are nice restaurants and night spots springing up.  I hope that this continues, since Bakersfield had really fallen on hard times with the recession.

After another week (and with my same poor door--the fix hadn't worked!), I came home through Tehachapi.  By avoiding traffic in this way, I was settling for desert nearly the whole way home.  But "settling" isn't a good word.  I was amazed at the beauty of it.  The Joshua Trees and other cacti were fascinating.  As I neared home, I was once again impressed with the Hand of the Master.  He painted the world in so many different ways, but each one is distinctly beautiful, each in its own way.

Now that I'm home, I'm looking at school and lessons and clubs again, but I have summer to look forward to with a trip to Chicago and another to South Carolina.  I have a plan and time to save up for it.  Onward!

An Epiphany portrait

This portrait from my book Biblical Portraits tells an important truth about the Wise Men.  I owe the original thought to George Carson, a choir teacher from Bakersfield, who was one of the most interesting and engaging men I've ever known.

Epiphany

The Wise Men may not have been the first to see the star, but they were the first Gentiles to receive the gift that the star gave.  They were men of knowledge, men of wisdom and understanding.  Many saw the star and marveled; these men saw the star and understood its meaning.  They saw it as a portent—it stood as a marker to light the path of those traveling in darkness seeking the king of the Jews.

The Wise men thought they understood the sign of the star.  They traveled to Jerusalem to greet the king.  Arriving in Jerusalem, they inquired of Herod, which seemed the right thing to do.  After all, if a new king had been born, wouldn’t it make sense for him to be born of the old king?  Herod was ignorant of any new king.  He was not, however, ignorant of the importance of the sign.  He sent for his own wise men, who looked in their holy books and proclaimed that if Messiah, the king of the Jews, was, in fact, born, his birthplace would be in Bethlehem.  The king secretly informed the wise men of the true birthplace, and the wise men agreed to come back and tell Herod where to find the new king, so that he could also come and worship. 

The Magi traveled on, understanding in part, but not in whole.  They knew that they were looking for a king—but they had no idea what kind of king it was that they sought.  When they found their king, he was not in a palace, not in a stable, but in a house.  They entered the house and they finally understood fully.   They encountered not just a king, but God made Man.  Their understanding caused them to fall on their faces and worship.  And they did not return to Jerusalem.  God spoke to them in a dream, and they went home a different way.

They went home a different way. This is the lesson of the Magi—once you have encountered Christ, you are changed.  What you thought you knew is put aside, and in its place comes true knowledge.  You come face to face with Truth, and you fall on your face in front of it.  You know that your life will never be the same.

The Wise Men sought a king and found God.  What are you seeking?  Will you look into Mary’s house as they did?  Will you fall on your face before the living God?  And will you go home another way? 

Book is published--twice!!

          My  book has been published and is available on Amazon.com and Kindle.  I've been receiving a lot of great comments from friends--congratulations and sharing on their own FB pages, and I want to say thanks.  People, publishing today is not that hard.  Get your work together, write, and then go to CreateSpace.com.  The challenge isn't writing or publishing now, it's promoting.  Please pray for me in this area.  It's not something that I feel comfortable doing, but I truly feel that God has called me to write this book, and now that it's written, I need to make sure that it gets out to those that are meant to read it and be blessed by it.  If you're interested, you can buy it in print for $12.99 or from Kindle for $6.99.  It's also available on the Kindle library (I didn't even know that existed!) You can borrow it for free for 14 days. 

       I wanted to take the opportunity to thank you for being my friends and encouraging me in this venture.  If it weren't for you--especially YOU, Rosalie--I wouldn't be nearly as confident in my abilities as a writer.  God bless you all!