Faith and fear, are for many, polar opposites. “If you’re going to worry, don’t pray. And if you’re going to pray, don’t worry,” said Pastor Green countless times and the pig-tailed, ruffly socked me never quite understood that paradox. As I grew in height and age, I came to realize that according to the faith under which I was raised, it simply meant, “Let go and let God;” another saying frequently voiced in my Baptist Church. What freedom to know that God had everything under control and that if I simply asked him to take care of it, it would be done. All through final exams, oversleeping, and commutes to and from college, this was the case. Meeting what I thought to be my Mr. Right, graduating from college and even the first job that I came to quickly hate, I let go and let God have my simple woes and what I thought to be major life stressors.
And then came the lay-offs and uncertainty of bills not being able to be paid by my starting salary. Followed by a trifecta of death: seeing my father cry at news about his brother and my godfather and my new husband's uncle. After some time in shock and grief came a cross country move, new job opportunities, new friends, our first home and first child. Faith brought me through tornado warnings and missing family at the holidays.
And then came the phone call, the death of my mother-in-law, the unwilling move back across country, the death of this daddy’s girl’s hero and of my husband's twin. Add more lay-offs and a depression that almost kept this mother from her newborn. Where was God then? Certainly I hadn’t been a saint, but not sinner enough to be caught in a perpetual rip tide. Accustomed to funerals and knowing a place called Caskets R Us actually exists and that it's the cheapest place to buy one. Only cooking because two children needed to eat and needed even the shadow of a mother that I was.
Constantly questioning what I did to deserve this? Why me? And what kind of God would do this to any one person while gifting others, like my very neighbor, with not having to work, the privilege of focusing on home improvement projects and vacations from her in-laws while I shop in the next town for the cheapest groceries hoping no one knows my financial secret. While I tutor kids on the side. While I cry myself to sleep wondering when the pain will stop.Where was the faith then?
And even now, knowing somehow that the children in my charge were somehow handpicked for my classroom and that there is magic only I can provide for them. Days when I look at those faces and wonder how I can do what's asked of me. How can I keep going? How can I fulfill what I thought was the call of my life while barely hanging onto daily routines and questioning "how" I can do what's expected of me. Will God give me the energy-strength-wisdom to work with so many and do so much when I'm feeling I'm just not enough?
Choices: Face Everything and Rise or Fear Everything and Run.
There is a minute part of me, somewhere deep within, where a light dimly shines, knowing it will one day become a mighty flame. A beacon to someone else just barely hanging on in the hopes of one day also being able to rise above the repeated low-lights life likes to drown some of us in. A little voice that repeats, "yes," "go," and "glow," no matter how many times we shout at it to just leave us alone and try to run so far outside our minds trying just to get away. I want to believe that whisper, no matter how much I wish it would show itself, would warmly hug me and place me on a certain path. I hope that is where my faith lives and that is where I find God.
God stating," Do not fear." God whispering, "Rise, baby girl." Reminding me, " Yes, it's worth it" and, "yes, you do matter." And finally, "I made you just as you are, perfect for what I need you to do."
And wiping tears on those days when withdrawing feels like the only option, I turn up the volume and magnify that voice inside. Face everything and rise. Don't quit. Yes, you can. Go forward, child. No need to run, just rise.
