On fear

So you’re here.  You’re here because you hear that word and shirk at it, yet still cling to it, and want for once and for all to destroy it to smithereens.  You work up the energy finally to face it, for at least a brief moment, and then you fall again.  You’re tired, so tired of wrestling with it.  Running from it.  Fighting it. Fear.

I have this dream for my daughter to one day master the piano.  I try not to be one of those parents who attempts to resurrect their pipe dreams through their children, but I am giving myself one, okay two, small “get out of jail free” cards in a couple of areas:  music and dance.  I figure that it won’t hurt to try to give her a small nudge in these areas in her life and if she hates me for it then at fourteen we will call it a day and I’ll throw in the towel. 

I never had the opportunity to play an instrument growing up.  I grew up mainly in a rural community that didn’t have an established music program, so I didn’t really “make” it past hot cross buns and twinkle twinkle.  It, the lack of music program, turned out to be a blessing in disguise for other reasons that I’ll talk on later at some point, but as an adult I do feel a lacking having not been introduced to music formally.

Fast forward, it’s Monday night, the official start of my daughter’s first piano lesson.  I haven’t told her because she’s been funny about these sorts of things lately.  She’s not one to be in the spotlight and she definitely has her mother’s genes when it comes to performance fright.  She’s relational off the stage.  On it she’s a deer in headlights and I can’t bear the trauma.

She’s been introduced to music early.  Yes, I was one of those mother’s jumping and tapping and throwing scarves in the air in a group setting, as her 6 month old self gurgled and drooled and laughed at this ridiculous woman that gave birth to her making a complete and utter fool of herself.  She enjoyed it until she developed an ability to be self conscious and we, she, (I), begrudgingly had to hang up our triangle.

But, we are back in the game, and en route to piano.  This is all of course following a forty minute meltdown in my mother’s front yard.  “But I don’t WANT to go to piano lessons”.  And on and on and on it went.  Fortunately for her I was having one of those glorious parenting moments-you know the ones- when you have your patience and good sense in tow and are able to really get to the heart of the matter.

“Olivia, what are you afraid of?” 

It was in that moment that her eyes engaged with mine, her sobbing stopped, and her breathing settled.  The world was once again turning.  Breakthrough.  “I’m scared because I don’t know how.”  And we talked about the fear.  As we drove to the lessons I talked about how mommies and daddies and grandmas and grandpas all know what it is like to be scared.  “Really? Mommy what are you afraid of?”  Beneath my sunglasses and in my rear view mirror I smiled then, holding the moment.  What am I afraid of? What are we afraid of?

The thing about fear is it has the power to grip our lives like no other.  The object of our fear actually alters our brain chemistry, our ability to reason and, like my daughter’s 40 minutes of irrationality on the lawn, we come undone. It engulfs us and there is no turning back.  Or is there? 

I imagine that when we are afraid, God sees us as we see our children.  We don't want our children to be afraid, even though we know developmentally it is normal at different stages.  We coach them to conquer the fear, don't we?  To surpass it, to rise above it. To not be consumed by it, or run from it. Our closet monsters are different as adults, but the feeling affects us in the same way.

And so, He asks you, "Child what are you afraid of?"  Will you bring it to Him? Will you trust him like a parent to embrace you,  wipe your tears, steady your breath, hold your gaze and not let you go?  He tells us He is right there with us in our fears.  We don't have to walk it alone.

"Don't be afraid, for I am with you.  Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you.  I will help you.  I will uphold you with my victorious right hand." (Isaiah 41:10)