The Real F Word

Fear.

It can come couched in many different forms. Careful planning. Meticulous analysis of all hypothetical scenarios before plunging ahead. Cold sweat, rapid breathing, heart pounding out of your chest. Flashbacks to a school summer trip in a foreign country, the only refugee in a class full of small town German kids, hardly speaking the language – crying out in my bunk bed, not being able to articulate or understand how I was feeling. If only I knew how to pray then, and that there was someone there with me who had infinite love and care about every aspect of my being.

Being uprooted at a very young age and living in a refugee camp, moving countries twice before age 10 suddenly and without preparation or explanation, feeling unsafe, feeling no security, gave me a lasting set of visceral memories, at times surfacing suddenly and physiologically, without making their way into the rational brain.

One such season was a set of panic attacks when I learned of my husband’s idea of moving out of a home and environment I had known for 30+ years. Inexplicable resistance and waves of crushing anxiety followed.

During the real estate waiting game, when no offers were coming in and we had already purchased our new home …. The time near 3 a.m. where the upstairs neighbours’ water heater exploded and water poured and dripped from the centre of our living room ceiling onto the floor … 2 days before the single buyers’ final home inspection before waiving all conditions on the purchase of my condo.

Closing day, waiting for the keys to finally touch my fingers so that the crushing feeling of being between homes … the irrational feeling of not HAVING  a home …. Would subside to infinite relief as I stepped into our new home.

And then in hindsight, the perfectly timed provision and protection of God.

1. Inexplicably, I had decided to refinance the mortgage on the condo in alignment with the conviction that paying off any debt was good stewardship and that we needed to get a handle on it
2. My husband being approached by a former client of his who was interested in finding a buyer for a home he needed to leave. (that didn’t work out… but it planted the seed to start searching!)
3. The fervent prayers that we needed to be closer together as a family, to be in a smaller community to impact. The prayers to push through and accept that the sacrifice was worth it (moving meant I would have to commute 2 hours to work …. But NOT moving meant we were 1 hour away from our son, and the back and forth pick ups and drop offs etc. were exhausting).
4. Finding the one house, the ONLY house, that seemed to be a buying choice at the time.
5. Getting an INCREDIBLE deal on the house due to some home inspection revelations.
6. Move day, literally just 3 months after the initial crazy idea took root and materialized into reality.

Fast forward 1.5 years later and …. We have moved to the most idyllic, nature-rich, safe, small community … a few sub divisions nested in between fields, country roads, ponds, trails …. A place you can endlessly walk around in during the pandemic without worrying about social distancing for MILES.

And yes … the pandemic. That hit about 3 months after we were settled into our new home. Suddenly, it all made sense. Being 15 minutes away from our son, we could step in to home school and spend 3X the time with him we normally would have. Priceless. Bonding.

Working form home, I am working in a large spacious home, not a cramped hot-spot condo with careless neighbours stampeding upstairs at all hours …confined to a place of crowded plazas, parks and supermarkets.

Now, my 2 hour commute is irrevocably gone, since I now mostly commute from my bed to my laptop.

Fear is poisonous to progress, growth and even blessings when stepping out into the unknown. The  antidote to that poison: trust, and love. Knowing I am loved beyond measure, and can count on the impeccable, timeless wisdom and care of God who knows exactly the plan he has for his precious daughter:

“You have searched me, LORD, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?  If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

Psalm 139

He knew the pandemic was coming, he knew a better place for us to be. He gently prompted all the right steps many, many weeks before. He coached my trust to grow through the bumps and stumbles in the road – including that fender bender on the way to the new home, with my precious feline mewling in the passenger seat.

More importantly He searched the deeper, trauma based memories and brought them to the surface for me to face, and heal from gradually. The body keeps score of past traumatic events, but I am not a victim to them – I am a warrior over them.

Sometimes, the real danger is not spelling out the F word. It is not naming that fear that gives it its power.

I name it and I call on His protection – the everlasting arms that just wrap around my life. He is boundless and infinite and if bumps in the road occur, they are stepping stones to where I need to be.