Skip to main content

Of Fear...

Tonight is the fifth night out of my normalcy. My routines. My surroundings, which are comfortable and customary. Tonight, I sit with a cup of hot tea as the cool, Washington breeze blows sympathetically and my curly hair dries in the night air.

I should be tired, but I am not. I just spent the last 36 hours away. Camping and exploring towns and trails and asking questions about the area as quaint towns popped up as the miles wore on.

It was wonderful. Everything except for 2 AM. You see, at 2 AM I was awake. Too much coffee too late in the evening necessitated a trip to the camp bathrooms which were about 100 feet away. They were easy to spot from our tent trailer but the grounds were full of obstacles. Logs. Rocks. Shrubbery. And the possibility of God-knows-what? Bears? Creepers lurking in the dark?

I talked myself into being brave and slipped my flip-flops on over my socks and prepared to venture out. The flashlight that was left by the door wouldn't turn on, so I flipped on the flashlight mode on my phone. The trailer door squeaked as I thrust it open and my chest caught with the sharp, unwelcome cold air. I stumbled towards my destination as my heart raced.

Upon attempting to return to camp - still terrified, of course - I couldn't see very well. My "flashlight" barely illuminated the area directly in front of me. I kept running into logs and shrubs. As I walked around them, I quickly ventured off course; veering away from my intended endpoint. I mean, we're talking about a person who gets turned around in a shopping mall.

When I finally emerged onto the asphalt loop, I couldn't see our site. At all. I know it wasn't rational, but it was the middle of the night and I was temporarily lost. In a forest. And I freaked out. For a few bleak seconds, terrible scenarios played through my mind. Then I remembered the sites were
numbered, found the stake of the number I was standing next to, and realized I was three sites
over. I walked to the right and eventually saw the camper. It was like Christmas Day.

After the adrenaline subsided, I wondered why I hadn't asked for help. I didn't want to bother anyone. I didn't want to wake anyone up, not even to ask how to use the the real flashlight.

Sometimes, you should ask for help.

And the other thing I took away from my excursion? Be brave. Don't let fear paralyze.

"Hope is the only thing stronger than fear." - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

I have always adored the truth in that quote. It's time.

Sometimes, you will end up somewhere unexpected. And that's okay.

The trail narrowed and tree carcasses lined the path. In the distance, concrete pillars could be seen. The remnants of a bridge to cross the river. Rocks and logs blocked the other entrance from the road. This path was closed. But the trail? The trail continued on, leading brave people to unexpected places.

Be brave. Be fearless.

I want to be that person.

Yes, a person who hopes and trusts. Wherever I'm led.


Amy Smith said…
This is some of your best writing yet. I love your brand of brave. xo

Popular posts from this blog


Shortly after the New Year, I took about a three week break from Facebook, deleting the app from my phone. I felt that it was in my best interest. As a whole, it made me feel wretched about myself (or bitter, or judgmental, or a slew of other negative emotions). Not to mention the amount of time I wasted.

It was hard at first, as most habits are, to break. But, as the days went on, it became easier, and I had more time to be engaged in the present. I was looking less at my phone for the red notifications. However, there were certain things I missed, such as seeing pictures of those that live far away, or sharing in others' happy news.

So, after some time, and after I felt like I had found some balance, I decided to log back in. It was the day after the inauguration and the day of the women's march. Two of my best friends and I went together. We joined about 5,000 others in Riverside. People of differing beliefs and backgrounds came together in solidarity, each person choosing …

Psalm 147:3

Weary heart so destroyed it shouldn’t beat
It seems whole until shadows change, displaying thousands of scars
All different shapes and sizes; a roadmap of past sorrow laid bare
I trace them remembering, thankful for piercing needle and suture
I am hemorrhaging again, sucking in sharp breath through pain
A pain that deceives healed wounds that time alone could not heal
I alone could not heal
It seems selfish to ask in light of what He has already given
But once again I rip out this heart that has betrayed me
With fallen earth and sordid transgressions
And once again He willingly takes my scarred heart, mangled, bleeding
Handling the damaged flesh like it means something more
With gentle hands that numb the anguish, He grafts over brokenness
The unbearable pain becomes a dull ache that continues to fade, like a scar
By grace, it beats
Linking this to imperfect prose today, because I am broken and in this Lenten season, I desire to focus on Jesus as my sole Redeemer.

Empty Frames

I have a penchant for vintage things. I am drawn to them - books, accessories, paintings, and so on. I read inscriptions in old books and wonder what that person was like, or who painted this picture (and why was it discarded)?

I have had this empty, old frame forever. It is painted gold and has beautiful carvings adorning it that have been chipped by age and carelessness. One of the corners is no longer flush.

But, I simply love it. It hangs over an old white cupboard that incidentally has chipped paint as well. My husband and boys don't understand why I have had an empty frame up for years; they think it is extremely weird.
In all actuality, it reminds me of hope. No doubt it once displayed a magnificent painting, but that was a different season. It now waits and hopes to be purposed again. In some ways, I feel like I have been stripped of the magnificent, soul-bare and I am, too, waiting.
Another one of my favorite pieces is just a small painting with an interesting frame.

When I …