Disappointment With Life, part seven: Fear

Do your kids like to pretend they are afraid? Here, mine are faking terror at the T-Rex Cafe. I suppose pretending to be afraid is thrilling when you know that you are really safe. I used to be the same way when I was a kid. True fear, however, is anything but thrilling. Fear is my enemy. It is disabling and takes my focus off of what is good and true.

I have struggled with fear off and on in my life, but a recent series of events brought it all to a head for me. My biggest fear has always been losing the people I love. When my dad died, I was afraid that my mom would die, too. When Bob's dad died a year later, I worried about who was next.

(the house where Bob grew up)

Bob had just accepted the manager position at his office, which meant more stress and more hours for him. He had been spending every weekend with his dad during his illness.Then after his dad died, every weekend was spent at his childhood home working on going through things and getting it ready to sell. I was afraid all the stress and grief would make him sick. I was afraid the lack of sleep would cause an accident on the road with all his traveling. And I was afraid that our family would be negatively affected with Bob being gone so much.

In the spring, things started to look up a little. The house sold, and Bob could be home on the weekends again. I thought that maybe things might slow down a little so we could lick our wounds and finish grieving. I was tired of grieving. I wanted to be happy again.

By: mconnors at morguefile.com

And then, the unexpected happened once again. Early in the summer, Bob came home from work around 8 o'clock in the morning. He had been up and to the office at 5 am, which was not unusual for him. I knew something was wrong when he walked in the house at such an odd time.

He looked me in the eyes with seriousness and told me that he had just been robbed at gunpoint. Two men assaulted him at an ATM, forced their way into his car, and ordered him to start driving. So, with a gun jabbed into his neck, Bob drove, trying to shut out the screaming demands of his attackers and think about what to do next.

Thankfully, the men had Bob drive to a certain location where they fled on foot. And after calling 911 and meeting with the police, he came home to me. Safe and sound. How thankful I am that he is alive. It brings tears to my eyes. I know it might have turned out differently, and I am grateful that God protected him from death that day.

Bob took it all in stride. He was a little jumpy for awhile, but mostly he was thankful to be alive and had a new appreciation for what really matters in this life.

Well, I'm sorry to report that I was not as mature about it. At that time, I only focused on this terrible thing that had happened to my husband. I played it out in my mind and wondered what it must have been like for him. I imagined different endings to the story, and I became more and more frustrated with life. Hadn't we been through enough? What terrible thing was going to happen next? If someone had told me that in 9 months I would develop a mysterious brain lesion, I think I might have gone ahead and had a nervous breakdown.

As it was, I was plenty fed up and sick and tired of living. "This world is dumb and stupid," I said. "Bad things happen, and we have no control over it. Anyone can die at any time, and I have to just take it!" Yep. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. And afraid. I was so afraid of all the other unknown terrible things that were going to happen to me. I was very focused on myself, to put it mildly.

And then, my hero stepped in. The Lord saved me from myself. He spoke to me and woke me up from my self-induced nightmare. I love Him so much. There are no words. 

Tomorrow I'm going to tell you what happened and also give something away, so come back!