About nine months after Jeremy left for his eternal Home, a friend took us out to do some sunset tubing on the lake. My 12-yr-old had been looking forward to it all day, but when the time came for her to get on the tube, she resisted. I knew she’d regret not going, so I pushed the issue and discovered the problem. She was afraid. It was an unknown lake, a smaller tube than she was accustomed to, and she had just watched a teenage boy get thrown off the same tube by a very skilled captain. Once we assured her that he would make her ride as smooth as possible—and one of the older girls offered to go with her—she eagerly climbed out onto the tube. And what a good ride it was for my girl!
The next morning, as I was flipping through the pictures I had taken, this image gave me pause. I thought about my own paralyzing fear. I had survived profound loss before. I’d even found joy and fulfillment again. But this time was different. This time, I didn’t have Jeremy to help me through. I had seen others ride the waters that now lay before me: others, who never did recover. Now I was being forced into this cold, dark, lonely abyss that I had not braved before, and I was terrified. What was this thing that had such a grip on me?
False
Evidence
Appearing
Real
Oh, make no mistake, grief is real. But fear? Fear is a liar! And we combat lies with truth. So, I had a good heart-to heart with myself in those early morning hours. (I suppose a broken heart can do such a thing?) The truth is, I was not—am not—alone in this wake. It may be true that I don’t have my steady husband to lean on this time, but I do have the One Who gave him his strength. It may be true that some grievers never really learn to live again, but the Captain of my ship knows my frame and is willing to give me all that I need to walk in victory. It may be true that I’ve never been in these particular dark waters before, but I need not succumb to the spirit of fear, because the Spirit within me holds the power to still the waves.
Was it still scary to step out of the boat? You bet! Some days, it still is. But because I trust the Captain, and I am secure in the One Who goes with me, I can choose to face my fear with anticipation and hope for the future—a future that will bring new joys, new experiences and new purpose.
As I sat there alone, in a still-sleeping house, on that Illinois summer morning, I knew it was time to ask myself the same thing I had asked my daughter, just hours before. What adventures and joys am I willing to forego because of fear? What if there is a good ride to be had on the other side of this wave? What might I miss?
Like most of you, my fellow valley-walkers, I loved and cherished the life I knew. It was good, and we were abundantly blessed. But there are new blessings that await. I know this, because God is still good, and you and I are still here.
But we’re going to miss out, unless we trust the Captain enough to climb out of the boat.
🩷Audra
When I am afraid, I will put my trust in You.
Psalms 56:3