Safe and Secure

If you've been reading long, you know that I struggle with worrying. I like to think I've made some progress with that over the years, but maybe not. 

If you are a fellow worrier, you understand that worrying itself can engender more worrying. For example, during both of my pregnancies, I worried more about worrying than about the actual object of my worries. I'd read that the mother's emotional state can affect the temperament of the growing baby, so I tried my very hardest not to worry about anything. But of course that was virtually impossible, so every time I caught myself worrying, I would scold myself and launch into even more worrying about worrying. 

I'm sure I'm not the only one to ever worry about worrying, but I wonder if anyone else has taken worrying to an even higher (lower?) level. Have you ever worried about... not worrying? 

Still on the Path

I’ve missed you guys so much these last weeks. I think of you often and want to tell you my stories, but either I get too busy wrecking and re-cleaning my kitchen, or I decide I don’t have anything worth saying. I keep waiting to learn the lesson so I can share something uplifting with you, but I’m just not there yet. 

So I will just tell you like it is. I’ll start with the good, tell you about the parts that don’t feel so good, and end with the great.

The Good

I have been following my personalized autoimmune diet for about three and a half months now. I eat only the foods that provoked the lowest level of antibodies on my blood test. I enjoy a fair variety of red meat, fish, poultry, vegetables, and fruits--all organic and pasture raised so as to avoid toxins from pesticides. 

Most of the pain that I had during my acute flare-up of Hashimoto’s thyroiditis and prolonged bout of insomnia has faded out. I sleep soundly each night, and my energy level is good, especially on days when the weather and my schedule permit me to ride my bike.

I no longer react to fragrances nor to essential oils, which I now apply to my thyroid daily (lemongrass, frankincense, and myrrh). When I react to a food, I no longer get tachycardia or bradycardia (high or low heart rate). I don’t get manic any more; that was the effect of severe insomnia, which creates a chemical state in the brain that is remarkably similar to intoxication.

In many ways, I feel healthier than I have felt in years:

• I’ve gained 10 of the 20 pounds I had lost since last May.
• I no longer get shaky and anxious when I am hungry, nor do I need to eat every 1.5 to 2 hours. 
• My hair is getting thicker.
• The outer edges of my eyebrows are growing in. (Hypothyroid patients typically lose the outer third of their eyebrows.)
• My nails are thicker, and they no longer split.
• Despite being off all thyroid medication for nearly 5 months, my energy level is good and I still have none of the typical hypothyroid symptoms except dry skin and cold intolerance.
• After nine years of perimenopausal symptoms, my periods have become more regular and the night sweats have stopped. This should also mean that my iron levels are returning to normal.
• My resting heart rate is lower, which contributes to deeper sleep.
• My digestion is much better. The frequent stomach pain, reflux, and diarrhea have almost completely stopped. Better digestion leads to better immune function and better mental health.

After two months of solid sleep, I feel ready to return to work and am now looking for a job. In the interim, I get myself out of the house and satisfy my desire to be with people by volunteering at my local library and at the junior high where I used to work. I particularly enjoy leading bilingual story hour at the library, but my happiest days each week are the ones when I’m working one-on-one with struggling readers at the junior high.

At the end of a happy day

I have committed my latest scripture passage to memory and find great comfort in meditating on it daily. Although I usually can’t feel God working, I do believe that this trial is achieving for me an eternal glory that far outweighs the struggles. One day I will share the whole story with you, and then “all of this [will be] for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people will cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.” (2 Corinthians 4:15)

The Parts that Don’t Feel So Good

I spend much of my time feeling alone and lonely. Of course I see Allyson, but she’s a typical busy teen. I see my family every week or two and my friends occasionally, and I often talk with them on the phone, but sometimes I just want a flesh-and-blood hug. I want to see the tears of laughter on their cheeks when we share a belly laugh. I want to just hang out.

Some days when it’s raining or too cold for me to get out on my bike in the sun, I feel unbearably sad and hopeless. I have to remind myself over and over that this time of trouble is light and momentary when compared to a lifetime or to eternity. I know that brighter days are waiting for me just around the corner.

Worse than the loneliness is the anxiety that tries to reclaim its hold on me. The main trigger is agonizing over my financial position and over the heavy responsibility of choosing a direction for my career. My heart wants to return to teaching, but the timing is wrong, and it’s hard to imagine taking care of myself adequately while managing such a crushing workload. Taking a job that I could leave at work each day and where I could earn more money makes sense, yet it also feels like turning my back on what God called me to do. 

Another trigger is fear that my condition could be worsening. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had occasional pain in my joints and the residual pain in my skin has become more intense on some days. It could be something that I ate, but I suspect that the main cause is the stress of job hunting and applying for social services to help me through this transition. 

One moment that brought unexpected tears was a trip to Walmart with Allyson and my sister Amy, who was Christmas shopping. As I glanced at aisles and aisles of items I could not afford, my mind flashed back to countless mundane trips to Walmart. On those other days, despite my careful budgeting, I could always toss a few small items into the cart without the slightest concern. How could I not have known how blessed I was? Would I be able to do that again, or would my illness prevent me from earning a good living going forward?

My worst anxiety gripped me last Tuesday, as I drove home from my first trip to the food pantry. It seemed impossible that I could be a recipient at the same charity where I once volunteered with my church home group. This isn’t supposed to happen to a person who adheres religiously to the Dave Ramsey budget, nor to a person who had scarcely been sick a day in her life. What if I couldn’t find a job? What if I lost the house?

I rubbed my sternum with one hand and switched on the blinker with the other, glancing twice over my shoulder as I merged onto the off ramp. “God, I need you,” I called out. I pictured Jesus seeking out a lost lamb. “Come and get me, Daddy!” Warm tears cut trails down my cold cheeks, and I dashed them away so that Allyson wouldn’t see.

A few blocks later, I pulled into the garage and sat for a moment clutching the steering wheel and breathing deeply. “I know you’re with me,” I whispered. “This light and momentary trial is just for a season. Even if I can’t see it, even if I can’t feel it, I know you are working in me. You will finish the work that you started in me, Father.” I drew in a few more big breaths, my shoulders relaxing as I  imagined rolling my burdens into Jesus’s capable hands.

I rubbed my knuckles across my eyes one more time and called through the house door for Allyson. “Come help me unload the groceries!”

“See what I got?” I said, with a determined smile. “Look at these.” I pointed at some miniature tarts that I would be unable to eat.. “I think they’re… pumpkin.”

“Nice!” Allyson replied, wearing a matching determined smile. “And ramen?? Cool.” I grinned; ramen noodles have been a source of contention between us due to their absolute lack of nutritional value, but I’d brought home one pack for her, along with several boxes of Kraft mac and cheese.

While we made room in the impossibly crowded pantry, I explained the other resources I’d learned of that morning: food stamps, help with utilities and Internet, and job placement agencies.

“In about an hour, I have an interview with Sprout’s [one of my favorite grocery stores],” I said. “I’m supposed to take my resume, but I don’t have time to update it from when I was looking for a teaching job. Maybe I-”

“Mom!” Allyson rolled her eyes. “If they hired Ethan with zero experience, you have nothing to worry about. Just relax.” 

“You’re right, baby.” I decided to work on the cowlick on the back of my scalp instead of modifying the resume.

The interview went okay, but I left feeling unsettled about the idea of working there, mainly because there would be no set schedule, and I’d probably work well past 10 at night. My sleep is still one of my main priorities, and I guard it carefully.

I explained all of this to Amy on Thanksgiving day two days later. Tears filled my eyes when I said, “It’s not that God isn’t talking to me; it’s just that I can’t get quiet enough to hear Him. I know if I could just be still, He would lead me.”

“Sarah, remember that the steps of a righteous man are ordered by God,” Amy replied with a warm smile. “No matter what job you get, whether it’s a transitional job or the next position God has chosen for you, you can be sure that it will be the right place. God is ordering your steps, and He is going to provide for all of your needs.”

A church song from my childhood sprang to the forefront of my memory, and I took a moment to marvel at the power of music both to preserve and to resurrect memories. In a voice just loud enough for her ears, I sang, “Rejoice for the steps… of a righteous man… they are ordered of God, they are ordered of God…. Remember that song, Amy?”

She shook her head.

I kept singing. “In the time of trouble, God will uphold you. God will sustain you. God will preserve you. In the time of trouble, He will lift you up. So rejoice; your steps are ordered of God…. Oh, thank you, Amy. I needed to hear this.”

Amy recounted the story of her transitional job at Radio Shack a few years back. “Remember, I didn’t want to take it because the pay was too low. But it was the perfect place for me, a place to heal.”

“Yes, didn’t you have a really supportive boss there?”

She nodded and told me how she’d regained her confidence there, and how God had then given her an even better job than the one she’d lost.

Back at home a couple of hours later, I sat at my table listening to the first Christmas songs of the season. Just like every other year, my heart thrilled to the wonder of Jesus coming to dwell among us, becoming Emmanuel, God With Us. 

And then I looked up at the collection of scriptures taped to my refrigerator, the ones that got me through the toughest work year ever last year. “Wait for the LORD,” I read aloud. “Be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the LORD.” (Psalm 27:13-14).

There at my table, with Christmas music in one ear and the faint giggles of Allyson and her two cousins in my other, I felt hope bubbling up deep inside me, a hope spontaneous and delightfully unexpected. I thought about the scripture I'd just read: “Let your heart take courage.” That must mean that my heart wants to be courageous. Yes, of course it does. According to the Apostle Paul, my heart can overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit… if I trust in Him. (Romans 15:13)

Well, I’m learning that it’s a lot harder to trust God when you’re in pain, you’re unemployed, and your bank account is dangerously low. I realize that that is the point. I know that God has allowed all of this for my good and for His ultimate glory when His purpose is fulfilled in me. 

As I said at church this morning to my friend Alicia, who has gone through her own terrifying hard times and come through to the other side, there are some lessons that can’t be learned any other way. How can I learn to rely on God alone if I still think I can rely on myself? 

What I most want to learn through this trial is not to put so much importance on my emotions. I want to stop judging my spiritual walk based on how I feel at any given moment. I know God loves me just the way I am, and I want to learn to do the same. I want to “fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen” (2 Corinthians 4:18). 

Now For The Great...

God has been so faithful to me through these last few months. I could tell you so many stories of divine appointments and sacred echoes, but you wouldn’t have time to read them all; I really need to start writing more regularly again.

I will share just one story, the most recent. Through a friend at my Spanish-speaking church, Palabra Viva, I found a hair stylist who works out of her home. She does a great job and only charges $12.50 for a basic cut, without styling. 

This past Wednesday, the day after my visit to the food pantry, I prayed all the way to her house, asking God to help me trust Him and let go of my fears. For the last couple of miles, happy tears flowed as I sang along with the radio. The lines that moved me most were: “So I will run into the waves / As courage comes to take fear’s place / With perfect love, perfect love.”

“Please, Lord… let your perfect love take fear’s place,” I breathed. “Help me believe.”

The first thing I noticed when Patty opened her door was her broad smile, but then my eyes were drawn to her T-shirt: “FAITH over FEAR.” My heart quickened, and fresh tears shimmered in my vision. “Oh, I needed to see that today,” I told her. “It echoes the message God just gave me through a song. Have you heard ‘What Can Take Away My Hallelujah’ ?”

“I love that song,” she said.

While she snipped at my overgrown locks, we talked about my health struggles and my current dilemma over my career path. Patty shared her own experiences with unemployment and changing career aspirations, and the faithfulness of God.

Like Amy, she encouraged me to surrender my will to God and to trust Him to lead me and provide for me. She assured me that my emotions are normal and urged me not to be too hard on myself. On my way out, we held hands and prayed for one another, and she told me to contact her any time.

That evening, she sent me a text message with a meme that gave me chills. “We are hunted down but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed (2 Corinthians 4:9),” 

“That is a verse from my current memory passage,” I replied. “It’s very special to me.”

“Amen!” she answered.

I marveled at God’s kindness and tender love for me. How kind of Him to bless me with a cheap haircut, a new sister, and a sacred echo to show me that I am still on the path that He has chosen for me, that my steps truly are ordered by Him.

I look forward to sharing with you whatever I find around the bend.

Good Medicine: Joy, Gratitude, and Sisters

I am posting this at 2:41 a.m. after another horrible immune reaction, this time to tea tree oil. That is a crazy, crazy story, and I promise to tell it tomorrow. It involves a new friend named Courtney. I'm going to be just fine, but if I'm going to be awake with tachycardia again, I might as well use my time for a good purpose. I've been praising Jesus and listening to scripture meditations on Youtube for a couple of hours, but my heart rate is still too fast to sleep. 

I was tempted to clean up this entry a bit because I wrote it during brain fog this afternoon, from something I ate; have to figure that out if possible. It took me about 3 hours to write because I knew it was all in the wrong order. Ana can tell us if I got it right.  But I don't want to clean it up because I want you to see my progress. It doesn't matter whether this is my best writing or not.


I had just finished my last blog entry and was making myself a smoothie (banana, a bit of plum--new today, so low and slow--, yogurt, honey, turmeric drop, iceberg lettuce, cantaloupe), when I saw a woman coming to the door. I ignored her, figuring this was another of the many deliveries of unusual food items and kitchen gadgets that arrive by the day.

When I answered the doorbell, I was shocked to find my sweet neighbor, Ana, with a bouquet of pink roses.

This morning I'd had another of my panic attacks, brought on by immune reactions to my food, and after I'd meditated on half the scriptures on my kitchen sticky note collection, God had directed me to go outside.

2 Timothy 1:7, Isaiah 12:2-3, Romans 8:15, Psalm 23:4, Matthew 11:28, Romans 5:2-5, Psalm 23:2-3, Genesis 21:6, Joyce Meyer quote, Romans 8:24-25, Habakkuk 1:5 

 

 

Outdoors, I breathed deeply in the warm morning air and feasted my eyes on the mature trees in my neighborhood.

"I am like a tree planted by the water," I prayed aloud. "My roots go down deep to the life-giving water. You are the water. The water of life."

I felt the wind and saw it moving the leaves in the tree.

"The wind is like your Holy Spirit,"  I said. "No one knows where it comes from or where it is going, but we know that it is there. I have your Holy Spirit inside of me, carrying me wherever you want me to go..... I am Dust in the Wind. You are the wind."

I felt my breathing slowing down, though the headache that had brought the panic continued to throb in the back of my head. Something I had eaten, surely. But what? I focused myself on my breathing, the green leaves, and the wind.

Just then, I saw Ana getting into her truck, dressed in cute gym clothes. I called out to her and then just ran across the street.

"A hug," I said. "I need a hug." I'd been at her house the night before, so she knew about my panic attacks when I get autoimmune symptoms.

She wrapped me in a tight hug and held me.

"It's medicine," I whispered into her hair as tears streamed down my face. "Your hug is medicine."

"Yes, it is," she said.

I told her about how God had told me to come outside while I was meditating on my scriptures like I usually do for anxiety.

"Yes, you need to go outside," she said. "The sun on your skin, the vitamin D. You need that."

"Yes, I do!" I said. "I can read my Bible outside. That's what I was about to do."

"Yes. Get a chair and bring it outside. Do your reading out here. Sit in the shade, though."

"I will," I promised. And I did. I had the most amazing quiet time in.... ever, I guess. God really spoke to me and did a great work in my heart. But I will share that another time.

Back to the Doorbell and Sweet Ana

"Oh, Ana!" I exclaimed as I threw my arms around her.

"Be careful. There are thorns," she warned.

I carefully took the little bouquet and breathed deeply. "This is aromatherapy," I said.

"Yes, it is!"

"And it reminds me of how much you love me and how much God loves me."

"I just want you to be happy," Ana said.

"Oh, I am. I am. I am so happy right now."

She hugged me again and laughed aloud. "You've got to focus on being happy so you can get better."

"Yes, but it's hard," I said. "I focus to much on this..." I pointed at all the food strewn around my kitchen. "But I have to. I can't eat the things that make me sick. I've been so isolated here," I said. "I do need to focus on things that make me happy."

"Yes!"

"You have to remind me," I said. "I can't remember things right now. When you're at work you can send me texts."

"I will," she said. "You have to do little things for yourself to make yourself happy."

I sniffed the roses again.

"You can put them in your room so Arwen won't eat them."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot about that. Arwen ate Juan's roses, remember?"

She laughed. "Yes, she did."

"I'll keep them in my room, and I can look at them and smell them there."

"You need to focus on being grateful," Ana added.

"Oh, I am. That's what my dietitian suggested. I've been making a gratitude list at bedtime every day. That's why I sleep so well. Last night I had the best sleep in years. Eight hours in a row!! You're going to be on the top of my list today."

"Yes, you need to focus on being happy and grateful."

"Not just at night, but at the start of the day, too," I interjected.

"And whenever you feel sad," Ana agreed. "Focus on being happy and grateful. My mom used to pray and thank God every day. I don't know how to pray, but I-"

"You know how to pray," I said. "God loves us so much. All you do is talk to him."

"Focus on being grateful," she repeated.

"I will," I promised, making a mental note to add a gratitude list to my morning routine and hoping that I would not forget that.

"Hey, can we pose for a selfie?" I asked. "This is going to be in my book for sure," I said.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm all sweaty from the gym."

"All of my selfies are ugly, trust me," I said. "You're going to look beautiful next to me."

"Okay," she said.

"Can you help me find my phone?" I asked. "It's part of this Hashimoto's thing [the brain fog]. I lose everything. Constantly. It drives me crazy."

We both scoured the kitchen to no avail.

"Did you bring your phone?"

"No, I didn't."

I thought back to my last blog entry and how I had emailed the photos from my phone while I was on the toilet. (Yes, I use my phone on the toilet. So do you. You just don't admit it.)

"Oh, I think it's in the bathroom," I said. Sure enough, there it was next to the sink. (Yes, I washed my hands. Of course!)

I then proceeded to take an ugly selfie of us both. [Out of respect for Ana, I am withholding that photo. You're welcome, dearest.]

"I can't see it," Ana said; I think she uses readers.

"You look great," I lied.

"I take selfies all the time now for my book, but I don't know how to do it," I said. "Selfies help me remember things, so it's great.... If Allyson were here she would know how."

"Let me try," she said. "I think people usually hold the phone out farther like this." She extended her arm high above us.

Her picture was a little better. She looked gorgeous but my nose still looked gargantuan. I guess that's because it really is gargantuan. Anyway, I hope you can see our joy.

That's Ana on the right. Aren't the flowers lovely? Like Ana.

I told her about a short message from Levi Lusko that I had just heard on the radio, right before she knocked.

"It was a message for me," I said. "Really specifically for me. It was about how when we lose so much, God always gives us something better."

"Yes, when you go through a hard time you can really appreciate the good things more," she said.

"That is true. And God loves us so much. He gave me you as a heart sister."

Ana hugged me again, squeezing me tighter.

"I love you, Sarah," she said, and she held me while I cried.

"God gave me you as a sister. Also, he gave me an Egyptian tax driver for a brother, a new Christian."

"Really?"

"Yes, and a Christian Uber driver from Rwanda [Africa]."

"Really?"

"Yes. The Egyptian man asked if he could hug me because I am his sister. And he did. He held me while I cried." Also he prayed for me, but I forgot to tell her that part.

"And the African man prayed for me in his car. He has only been in Texas for one month, and he barely speaks English."

"Really?"

"Well he's been in America for 8 years but he just moved to Texas a month ago. They are both my brothers."

"Wow!"

"So you see that even though I have lost so much in this battle with Hashimoto's, God is giving me new stuff, better stuff."

"Yes, he is! I love you so much, Sarah."

"Me too, sister."

"You look really beautiful in the selfie," I said when she was on the way out my door.

She grinned. "You think?"

"Oh yes, everyone who sees you always says you're gorgeous."

"They do?"

"Yes, like my roommate Kim." I gestured behind me to her bedroom. "The first time she saw you she sent me a text saying that you were so gorgeous."

Ana flushed with pleasure.

"It's true," I said.

"Stay in touch," Ana said. "And do things to make yourself happy."

I will. Oh, I will.

My life is like these roses. The thorns make the beauty all the sweeter when God gives me eyes to focus on it. I could barely see them through my happy tears.

God Moved the Mountain.... en ingles

I am back in Texas after the most incredible month of my life, absolutely full of real-live miracles. The Friday before last, I shared in broken Spanish the story of my experiences during the 6.7 magnitude earthquake that occurred in Panama on Tuesday, June 25, 2019.

God has told me to rest right now, and I am. I slept beautifully last night but still need more rest. However, this morning He told me that it is important to go ahead and translate the story to English because of a woman I met yesterday named Rushanda. She is going to be looking on this blog. Very soon I will post a video of our conversation yesterday. It is a message for all people who struggle with anxiety.... 

Anyway, here is the translation, done mostly by Google translate. It is sloppy, but no importa. I am no longer a perfectionist, and this story needs to be told.


Do you know how people say "literally" when, in truth, they mean figuratively? For example, "I was literally at the end of my rope"? This is not such a time.

On Tuesday, three days ago, God literally moved a mountain for me, to move another mountain out of my life.

For many weeks before my trip to Costa Rica,  my boyfriend Juan had been praying about my fears. He told me, "It is not God's will that you be afraid."

I told him, "My insecurities are a part of my personality, I always struggle with anxiety when stressful things happen, but all is well, God helps me every time, I meditate on the promises in His Word, and God calms me down."

Juan did not agree. Although I was too proud to admit it, I knew Juan was right. Secretly, I asked myself, "How could God free me from my fear?"

One day, this verse touched my heart: "Truly I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, be removed into the sea, and will not doubt in his heart, but believe that what he says will be done, whatever he says. It will be done." (Mark 11:23)

I said, "My mountain is fear, please, Father, move the fear mountain of my life."

Still, I thought, "How is that possible?"

Dios Movió La Montaña

¿Sabe cómo la gente dice "literalmente" cuando, en verdad, dice figuradamente? ¿Por ejemplo, "Yo era literalmente al final de mi cuerda"? Este no es un tiempo así.

El martes, tres días atrás, Dios literalmente movió una montaña para mí, para mover otra montaña fuera de mi vida.

Por muchas semanas antes de mi viaje a Costa Rica, Juan había sido orando sobre mis temores. Él me dijo, "No es la voluntad de Dios que tengas miedo."

Yo le dije, "Mis inseguridades son un parte de mi personalidad. Siempre lucho con ansiedad cuando cosas estresantes ocurren, pero todo está bien. Dios me ayuda cada vez. Yo medito en las promesas en su Palabra, y Dios me calma."

Juan no acordaba. Aunque yo estaba demasiado orgullosa que lo admita, sabía que Juan tenía razón. En secreto, me pregunté, "¿Cómo podría Dios me libere de mi miedo? "

Un día, este versículo tocó mi corazón: "Porque de cierto os digo que cualquier que dijere a este monte: Quítate y échate en el mar, y no dudare en su corazón, sino creyere que será hecho lo que dice, lo que diga le será hecho." (Marcos 11:23)

Yo dije, "Mi montaña es miedo. Por favor, Padre, mueve la montaña de miedo de mi vida."

Aún así, pensé, "¿Cómo es posible?"

Un Lugar de Sanación / A Healing Place

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO

[Here is another bilingual travelogue entry, chronicling both my travel experiences and my progress with Spanish in a Costa Rican language immersion program. Note that all grammar errors in the dialogue are mine.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS.

[Todos errores gramatical en el diágolo son mios.]

Después de una cena deliciosa en la casa de Macha, y una larga ducha caliente en la casa de mis nuevos amigos, me acosté en mi habitación tranquila a las 8:30.

Un poco calor quedó del día, y debí que dormir con las ventanas abiertas. (En la casa de Macha, puedo dormir con las ventanas cerrados porque el aire tiene de menos calor.) Aquí no hay ventanas de tela metálicas para protegerse contra bichos, pájaros, y geckos.

En este cuarto, solo las cortinas me separan de las criaturas afueras.¡Esperé que se queden afuera! Me descansé  en la cama y escuché a los insectos, un concierto familiar y también inusual, porque vivo en la ciudad normalmente.

En mis pensamientos, Dios habló. “¿Nina de mis ojos, do you hear me singing over you (me oyes cantar sobre ti)?”

Contesté en inglés, “¡Sí, Papá! Oigo. ¡O, gracias! Gracias por tu amor. Te amo, Amado.”

Dos Respuestas en Una / Two Answers in One

[EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO]

For the month of June, I’m back in Costa Rica for a Spanish language immersion program.  Once again, I will write my stories in bad Spanish and then translate them to English so that we can see my progress with learning the language.

[ENGLISH TRANSLATION AT BOTTOM]

Durante el mes de junio, estoy en Costa Rica de nuevo para un programa de inmersión en español. Otra vez, va a escribir mis historias en español malo y entonces traducir a inglés para que podemos ver mi progreso con aprendiendo el idioma. Aviso: Todos errores gramaticales en el diálogo son mío.

Tengo muchas historias que compartir sobre mi tiempo aquí en Costa Rica, pero hoy quiero contar una experiencia que arde en mi corazón. Esta no es un típica cuenta de viajar.

En una historia previa, los dije que tengo inseguridades sobre mi primer noviazgo después de mi divorcio casi siete años atrás. Estos miedos no tienen una conexión con Juan específicamente. Temo la idea de confiando en alguien, porque no quiero tener dolor en el futuro… ni ahora.

Voy a quedarme aquí por cuatro semanas en todo. Juan y yo hubimos sido un pareja por solo dos meses antes de mi viaje; por eso, la separación ha causado luchas en mí. Aunque estoy disfrutando mi tiempo mucho, y estoy aprendiendo español rápidamente, he sufrido de mis inseguridades frecuentemente.

Por la noche, Dios me ayuda; habla conmigo en mis pensamientos y en las escrituras. Una noche, oré, “Por favor, ayúdame a calmarme, como un niño destetado de su madre.”

Reconocí que este pensamiento era una versículo de la Biblia, pero no supe de donde.

Entonces, encontré estos versículos en Salmos:

“[Dios] cambia la tempestad en sosiego, y se apaciguan sus ondas. Luego se alegran, porque se apaciguaron; y así los guía al puerto deseaban.” (Salmo 108:29-30)

Entendí que Dios hace el tormento callado, y por eso, nosotros podemos acallarnos. Además, me di cuenta de mi puerto deseado es cualquier lugar donde mi Amado está--en mi propia casa o miles de kilómetros lejo. Mi refugio, mi lugar más seguro, es en mi corazón, donde el espíritu de Jesucristo vive.
 
¡El día siguiente, en la mañana, abrí la Biblia en el libro de Salmos y inmediatamente encontré este versículo!

En verdad que me he comportado y he acallado mi alma como un niño destetado de su madre; como un niño destetado está mi alma. (Salmo 131:2)

¡Era un eco divina! Supe que Dios había hablado a mí.

A Seed of Light

I don't have time to write tonight, but I feel that I must. 

The last three or four weeks have been exceedingly difficult for me. We are implementing a new instructional model that I believe in, but actually putting it into practice has been rough. In theory, most of the class will be reading independently and responding in their journals while I focus on guided reading with a small group.

The reading part is getting better, for the most part. We started several weeks ago with 20 minutes of reading followed by whole-group instruction. That was a battle because over half of my students profess to hate reading. Every day, they'd say, "We're reading again? Why do we have to read every day?"

Each day, I calmly repeated, "This is reading class. That's what we do. You can't get better at reading without reading."

Muchos Niños Lloran / Many Children Cry

EN ESPAÑOL ABAJO...

[This is the third in a series of bilingual travelogue entries, a record of my progress in a Spanish Immersion program.]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS...

En mi tercero día en Costa Rica, escuela comienzó. Estaba nerviosa sobre el autobús, pero mi mamá Tica caminó conmigo y le dijo a el conductor donde yo necesité ir.

En el bus hubo tres profesoras de mi escuela, CISA. Caminamos en la misma vía del día pasado. El edifício sirve para escuela, misión, y iglesia.

Aquí encontré a 11 perros que viven con el director, Héctor. Ellos siempre entran a escondidas. ¡A veces trepan por las ventanas!

Inicié en una clase intermedia con cuatro otros estudiantes. Todas las instrucciónes estuvieron en español. Estuvo como el sermón de Hector en el día pasado. Las palabras fluyeron sobre mi cabeza pero no entraron mis pensamientos. Sin embargo, hoy debí concentrar. ¿ Cómo pude aprender si no entendí las instrucciones?

Quise llorar, pero no. Sólo me senté en la silla y sonreí.

Después almuerzo, asistí un clase intensiva. Nosotros practicamos verbos reflexivos.

Después mi clase, yo fui a la parada con una profesora, Malli. Llegabamos diez minutos después el bus salió. El proximo bus fue a llegar en cincuenta minutos, y yo debí esperar sola.

Pregunté a Malli, "¿Cómo le digo el conductor donde necesito ir?"

Malli me explicó, pero no comprendé porque estuve inquieta. Ella repetía sus instrucciones, pero yo todavía no entendí. Ella escribía en mi cuaderno:

Yo dije, "¿Debo...?" Me levante el brazo y bajé un cable imaginario.

"Sí," ella contestó.

"¿Cómo sé cuando necesito...? Todavía no sabía el verbo.

"Después del puenta."

"¿El puente? ¿Dónde?"

Inicié llorar. "Disculpe," dije, y cubrí mis ojos. "Tengo miedo."

"Es normal," ella me dijo. "Quizás puede llamar un taxi."

"Pero no sé cómo que decir dónde la casa esta. Quizás camino. Pienso que puedo encontrar la casa si camino."

"Pero esta lejos, y esta lloviendo."

"¿Llovi... la lluvia?"

"Sí."

A mí me parecía que la carretera fue peligrosa. Fue estrecha y los carros manejaron rápidamente. Normalmente, disfruto caminar, per no quise mormirme en este día.

"OK. Por favor, me ayuda que llamar un taxi."

Malli  llamó a Ariel, el nieto de Macha, y él llamó un taxi.

"Sólo diga, 'La casa de Doña Macha, por favor,' " Malli me dijo.

No necesité decir algo porque el conductor llegó en cinco minutos. Malli le dio las instrucciónes.

Después tres minutos, estuve en mi casa.

En la cocina, dije a Macha, "A mí me hace falta mi autobús." Estuve orgullosa para usando un estructura de mi clase intensiva. Ahora, sé la correcta oración: "Perdí mi autobús."

"No sé cómo que decir dónde..." Lloré de nuevo. "Disculpe."

"No llore," Macha dijo. "Es normal. Es su primer día." Ella me abrazó.

Ahora yo reí, tan duro que casi no puedo hablar.  "Sí, muchos niños lloran en su primer día en escuela."

Soy normal.
=========================

On my third day in Costa Rica, school started. I was nervous about the bus, but my Tica Mama walked with me, and she told the bus driver where I needed to go.

On the bus were three teachers from my school, CISA. We walked the same route from the day before. The building serves as school, mission, and church.

Here I encountered 11 dogs that live with the director, Hector. They always sneak in. Sometimes they climb through the windows!

I started an intermediate class with four other students. All of the instruction was in Spanish. It was like Hector's sermon on the past day. The words flowed over my head but did not enter my thoughts. However, today I must concentrate. How could I learn if I could not understand the instruction?

I wanted to cry, but no. Instead, I sat in my chair and smiled.

After lunch, I attended an intensive class. We practiced reflexive verbs.

After my class, I went to the bus stop with a teacher, Malli. We arrived 10 minutes after the bus left. The next bus was going to arrive in 50 minutes, and I must wait alone.

I asked Malli, "How do I tell the driver where I need to go?"

She explained it to me, but I did not understand because I was very anxious. She repeated her instructions but I still did not understand. She wrote in my notebook:

To La Selva (The Jungle), please. You can stop where Aldemar or after the La Selva bridge." [I still don't quite understand the instructions.]

"Must I...?" I raised my arm and pulled an imaginary cable.

"Yes," she answered.

"How do I know when I need to...?"  I still didn't know the verb.

"After the bridge."

"The bridge? Where?"

I started to cry. "I'm sorry,"  I said, and covered my eyes. "I have fear."

"It's normal," she said. "Maybe you can call a taxi."

"But I don't  know how to say where my house is. Maybe I walk. I think I can find the house if I walk."

"No, it's far. And it's raining."

It appeared to me that the road was dangerous. It was narrow, and the cars drove rapidly. Normally, I enjoy walking, but I did not want to die on this day.

"Okay, please help me call a taxi."

Malli called Ariel, Macha's grandson, and he called a taxi.

"Just say, 'Doña Macha's house, please,' " Malli told me.

I didn't need to say anything, because the driver arrived in five minutes. Malli gave him the instructions.

I dried my eyes and hugged Malli.

After three minutes, I was in my house. In the kitchen, I said to Macha, "To me it happened that my bus was missing."  I was proud for using a structure from my intensive class. Now I know the correct sentence: "I lost my bus." [It is an idiom that we don't use in English.]

"I don't know how to say where..." I cried again. "I'm sorry"

"Don't cry," Macha said. "It's normal. It is your first day."

Now I laughed, so hard that I almost couldn't talk. "Yes, many children cry on their first day of school."

I am normal.

Hang Onto the Raft!

In my last entry, I told you that I've been longing to be free of my need to control everything. If only I could just make a list of necessary actions and check off each step! But the list is the problem. I keep trying harder and harder to let go, but of course it doesn't work that way. All attempts at perfecting myself only leave me hopelessly frustrated, utterly worn out.

I've been praying about this for months, and God has given me an assurance that He is working on me. In the good moments, I've felt not only peace, but exhilaration at the idea of being free. First, I pictured myself clinging to the edge of a cliff, knuckles white, clawing in desperation as I lost my grip. Deliberately, I imagined peeling my fingers loose and letting myself fall, fall... only to be borne up by a gentle wind current. I imagined myself floating peacefully on the breeze like a flying squirrel, or even soaring like an eagle.

Well, that's not exactly what God had in mind. On a walk in the park a few weeks back, He gave me a different analogy. In my favorite part of the park, I recalled something I'd read in a devotional about being caught in the current of God's Spirit. At the time, I'd found great comfort in the idea of leaving my plans behind and floating down God's river to some beautiful destination.

I paused next to the dry stream bed which only a few weeks earlier had been swollen with rain. "God, I trust you," I prayed. "I want to relax and let your current take me wherever you want me to go." I thought about the agonizing anxiety that I'd been battling for weeks. A couple of tears trickled down my cheeks. "Even here, God. Even here."

It Surpasses Knowledge

I'm sorry I've been so quiet lately. I'm just so busy. There never seems to be a free moment, or enough energy. I had at least two other stories lined up in my head that I wanted to share, but they just got bumped....


Are you ever just going along, minding your own business, feeling happy and well-adjusted, and suddenly you're blindsided by a blow that knocks your feet out from under you before you even see it coming? That's what happened to me this evening.


To say I was feeling well-adjusted to start with could be a little inaccurate. Actually, I'd felt a bit unsettled all day. Allyson and I saw God's Not Dead last night, and (ironically) all those questions of science and creation and evolution and the Big Bang stirred up some doubts that I've struggled with for years. I agreed with the young protagonist that the only logical explanation for a Big Bang that created all matter in a flash of light would be that God spoke the universe into being, starting the work of creation with the command, "Let there be light" (Genesis 1:3). Still, I was troubled with the idea of so many brilliant minds disagreeing, and of so many religions with other people just as ardently believing something different. What if, just what if, I could be wrong about God?


I'm used to it now, this tug-of-war between doubt and faith. I used to think, each time God did something incredibly wonderful and inexplicable and tender for me, that surely I would never doubt again. But the doubts always come back. And they always shake me at my core. My faith is not something I do on Sundays; it's the very center of my being. So doubting my faith makes me wonder who I am and what this life is all about. It makes me feel, in a word, crazy.


I knelt in my prayer closet last night and talked to God about it, but I was just too sleepy to have a meaningful conversation with anyone. So this morning, I prayed about it again. "Lord, I'm so tired of these doubts. Please, help my unbelief." But I was still sleepy despite a full night's rest, and there was no time to really talk it over. So I pushed those thoughts away and started my work day.


So, back to the unexpected blow....


At the kitchen table over the last few bites of dinner, Allyson and I were enjoying a chapter of our latest book before Bill came for her. Monday's usually his day, but he'd been at the Rangers' opening (baseball) game, and I'd been savoring those few extra hours with her after school. The faint sense of unease following me all day had receded, and I felt... perfectly well-adjusted and content.


In the middle of a chapter, Allyson left the table, muttering something about being right back. I nodded absently and finished off the last of my vegetarian shepherd's pie (which, remarkably, Allyson loves).


When she still hadn't returned a few minutes later, I hollered for her. "Come on! Let's finish this chapter before Daddy gets here." I carried my dishes to the sink before hollering again. Still no response.


I headed for her room. "Did you put your socks on like I asked?"


Her room was empty.


I checked both bathrooms, hollering for her all the while. Empty.


In a moment, I was back to that day in September when I tore up the house looking for a naughty cat. My voice shrill, I yelled, "Come OUT, Allyson. This isn't funny.... WHERE ARE YOU?"


I yanked open the linen closet door, ripped open the shower curtain, fell to my knees and looked under my bed.


I could hear the desperation in my voice as I cried, "Allyson, come out immediately!"


Reality sank in: This is a little house. Allyson is bigger than a kitten. She really isn't here. A scream rose in my throat and tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes. "ALLY-SUNNN! ALLY-SUNNN!"


Part of me was afraid that someone had somehow snatched my daughter from inside my house, but even in my panic, that didn't make sense. I hadn't heard any doors open, hadn't seen or heard a hint of an intruder. So where was she?


Now this next part is embarrassing, but I'm going to admit it....


My thoughts went where they used to go when I was a little girl and I couldn't find my sisters or my parents. What if Jesus had come back for his church, and I'd been left behind? I shook away that thought. No, if I'm still here when Jesus comes back, I know I'm going.


But where was she?


I ran into the garage and screamed, "Allyson!"


At last, I heard a faint response that I couldn't make out. It sounded like it was coming from the front yard.


I raced out the front door just as Bill pulled up in front of the house. And there was Allyson, sitting on the brick communal mailbox and waving at Daddy.


I swallowed my tears and started scolding. "Oh, Allyson! You scared me. You can never go outside without asking me."


"But I did tell you. I said I'd be right back."


"I had no idea you'd gone outside. I thought you were in the bathroom. Didn't you hear me screaming?"


Bill scolded her too. I kissed her, and then she was gone. And I was left alone with my swirling fears and my giddy relief.


Now that I think of it, I realize I felt the same way the time Allyson almost suffocated herself. And if I'd been able to pull my big girl onto my lap and snuggle her like I'd done that other time, I think I would have been okay. Instead, I plodded to the sink and started on the dishes with trembling hands and a throat raw from screaming.


What's wrong with me? I thought. Why did I panic like that? Why didn't I think to check outside? Why didn't I think to pray?


I looked out the window at Allyson's friend Ellie on her bike and remembered my bike ride in the park this morning. What I needed was a walk.


I stacked several more dishes in the dishwasher.


I need a walk with Jesus in the park.


I filled a bowl with water. Yes, after I finish the dishes.


No, now. I need to go now.


So I tore myself away from my dirty kitchen and pulled on my Five Finger shoes. Out on the street, I waved to Ellie and her mom and crossed the street to the park.


As soon as I was alone, I started whispering to God. "Something's not right with me. Why did I have that thought about being left behind?" Tears slipped down my cheeks as I smiled and nodded to a passing cyclist. "God, do I really believe that? That you would leave me?"


I will never leave you or forsake you. (Hebrews 13:5)


"Why am I afraid?"


I whirled to look behind me as a car sped past. Heart thudding, I remembered how it had felt to be chased through the darkness by a strange man, and how I'd been afraid to walk alone after that for months. Part of me wanted to go back home, but it was too beautiful outside. Besides, I wasn't alone. I was surrounded by people walking dogs and jogging and riding bicycles and corralling children. "And You are with me," I whispered.


I walked slowly, taking in the budding trees and the green grass and the last golden rays peeking through the branches. I listened to the birds singing and the squirrels scrabbling in the underbrush. One of them ran right in front of my feet, and I shared smile with a man coming the other way down the wide path.


"Quiet me with your love," I whispered. "Hem me in, behind and before. Keep your hand upon me."


In my favorite section of the park, where the path loops around under heavy green branches, and you can hear only the wind and the trickling brook and occasional muted traffic sounds, I sighed deeply. "Look at all this beauty you made for us," I said. "The heavens and the earth declare your glory. So why, why do I doubt? I'm never going to be free of this, am I?"


I remembered the words of a visiting pastor yesterday about how to pray in temptation: "Jesus, help me or I'm going to do this."


"Jesus, help me or I'm going to doubt," I said. "Please, don't let the devil steal the joy of my salvation from me. Don't let him take my peace."


I didn't hear any Words from God, but He did quiet me. I saw all those happy people, heard the happier birds, felt the light breeze raise goose bumps on my arms. I drank in the green leaves and the long, swaying grass. And all was right with the world again.


I'm glad this happened tonight. I needed to know about these deep fears, that I will lose my children, that I will lose my faith, that I will be all alone. I'm glad I know God's perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18).


I suspect that I will always grapple with doubts, and that's okay. God understands, and He loves me just as I am. I found something encouraging tonight when I was searching (unsuccessfully) for a C.S. Lewis quote on doubts:

Any faith system that gives a "neat" answer to such complex situations is going to be too simplistic for an intelligent hurting person to believe. In the midst of that kind of pain and complexity, faith is going to largely come down to trust in a Person. Those who hold to their faith in the midst of hardship most often do so out of relationship more than rationality.

This actually echoes my prayers in the park tonight, for the love that surpasses knowledge (Ephesians 3:19). When I'm tangled in doubt, I can't figure it all out.  The reality of God surpasses my knowledge. I can only know Him and experience His love through the Holy Spirit in me, who causes Christ to dwell in my heart through faith and gives me power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.


That love is what I can know, what I do know. He's proven it to me so many times. And He will continue proving His love even when I doubt. Because that's the kind of God I serve.

He Will Continue to Deliver Us

This is one of those entries I am hesitant to write, for two reasons. 1) It's humiliating to admit my weakness so soon after my last, top-of-the mountain post. 2) I know some of you worry about me, and I don't want you to. In any case, I really must share because it's another one of those times when God amazes me way too much to keep it to myself....

Remember how I said in my last post, "I'm sure this trial is far from over"? Of course I was right, but even I didn't expect that my joy would be so short-lived. Within 48 hours, I began to entertain worries about the future, and by the following morning, this past Sunday, I was in a full-blown anxiety attack. It wasn't even the worries about the future that got me, it was the frustration that I could be so vulnerable to my negative thoughts even after such an amazing revelation about why God is allowing me to go through this difficult time.

My typical tendency toward anxiety had been compounded by lack of sleep, and after an hour of trying to read the Bible and pray, I had myself convinced that I was surely losing my sanity. They'll have to carry me off, I thought. I just don't see how I can go on.

At that point, I sent a text message to my sister Amy asking that she and Mom request prayer for me at their church that morning. "I feel like I'm drowning," I told her.

And then I sat on the back porch drowning in my tears, gripped by a formless fear that constricted my chest. "Please God," I whispered. "Please. Please rescue me."

Amy's response encouraged me a bit, especially since she said she and Mom were praying against fear even though I hadn't told her I was afraid. But I still had a hard time holding back tears when I woke Allyson and made her breakfast. If she saw the tears that splashed into my cold cereal, she didn't say anything.

The first song at church was Our God is Greater, by Chris Tomlin. When the music minister reminded us that God is bigger than any problem we could have brought in with us, I started to sob. I cried through most of the worship service, while Bill silently squeezed my hand. These weren't the happy tears I usually shed during worship, nor were they tears of relief. They were tears of hopelessness and longing.

But when Pastor Bill stepped out to deliver his message on fear, everything changed in an instant. Here's the verse that flashed on the screen:

For God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and of love and of a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7)

I grabbed Bill's arm. "Hey, that's the verse Amy just texted me. She and Mom were praying that for me this morning!" I could barely keep my voice to a whisper.

"Weird," he whispered back.

"Not weird, wonderful," I said. "That's God."

The sermon was perfect for my situation. What stuck with me most was the admonition to be persistent in my faith, to expect opposition from the enemy but to keep my eyes on God's promises.

I walked out of the church in awe, humbled at God's grace. I felt ashamed to need so many reassurances, and grateful for His patience with me. I felt very loved. But I still felt terribly sad and tired.

Bill and Allyson dropped me at the airport that afternoon for my flight to Portland. I passed through security numbly and then wandered through the airport looking for something to eat, wayward tears slipping down my cheeks at random moments. I didn't even bother to brush them away. The airport was so crowded that strangers kept bumping me, yet I felt utterly invisible.

I called Amy and Mom from the gate and told them the story of the pastor's message. We were all excited about how God had so clearly spoken to Amy about my fear, and how he'd given me exactly the same message twice in one hour.

But I was still teary when I ended the call and walked down the jetway. God, I thought, could you please sit me next to someone kind? But then I dismissed the idea, for of course the seat assignments had been arranged long before.

The girl next to me did seem quite pleasant, and she willingly loaned me her only pen for the first hour of the flight while I poured out my heart in my journal. After that she took a nap, and I read several chapters of The Hunger Games, which was quite captivating but not at all cheerful.

I closed the book when I was down to the last three chapters, saving the rest for the return flight this Saturday. I closed my eyes then, but sleep wouldn't come. Instead, the scary thoughts tried to worm their way back in. "You're all alone on this plane. There's no one to talk to, no one who understands. You're probably going crazy."

I opened my eyes and stared out over the wing at the fluffiest white clouds I'd ever seen. The sky was full of God's majesty, but all I wanted was a friend to hold my hand. I turned away from the window with a sigh. My seatmate was awake, and she was looking at me. "Are you enjoying that?" she asked, gesturing to my book.

I shook my head slightly to clear my thoughts. "Hunger Games? Oh, yes. It's a great book. Have you read it?"

She had, and she also saw the movie, which she said was good but nowhere near as good as the book. We talked easily for a few minutes, and then gradually the conversation turned more serious. I learned that she is a nurse manager who works in an addiction treatment center, and that they work with their patients to help them overcome negative thought patterns.

So I took a deep breath and told her about my negative thought patterns. She was kind, compassionate, and very reassuring. We talked about scriptures that apply to my situation, agreeing that the only way to combat the lies is by replacing them with truth.

We talked for over an hour. As the plane made its final approach, I told her how I'd prayed that God would put me next to someone kind, and I thanked her for ministering to a stranger. She told me I'd ministered to her just as much. She'd had a hard trip, and she hated to have missed church, and the best thing that could have happened was having someone to talk about Jesus with. She also confessed that she never talks to people on planes--neither do I--and that she is very shy and doesn't like to start conversations with strangers. So neither of us had a doubt that God had orchestrated our encounter.

When we pulled into the gate, I finally thought to introduce myself. She said her name was Molly. When we parted ways at the terminal, she gave me a hug. I smiled all the way to the hotel as I marveled at God's providence. He knew all along what I would ask, and He'd already granted my request. At the same time, he met Molly's need even though she hadn't asked anything.

In the two days since, God has continued to lavish me with little signs of his love. I've laughed with colleagues whom I haven't seen in two years, eaten salmon that melted in my mouth, walked everywhere in the most glorious weather, drunk in the sight of towering trees that belong on a serenity poster, and eaten cookies and scones lovingly made by the locals on my team. Today at lunch was the icing on the cake. I met a girl from class who is a fervent Christian. She's my age, and we seem to have a lot in common. We shared tips for insomnia, and we talked about Jesus. When lunch was over, she gave me a hug, and I called her my sister.

I was positively grinning as I walked back to class because I realized that truly I had just found a sister I'd never met before. How incredible is that? I have sisters and brothers everywhere. How could I ever feel alone?

Again, I'll readily admit that this trial is far from over, but at this moment I am overflowing with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13). And the next time I feel like I'm drowning, I know God will pull me out of the deep waters. He will rescue me from my powerful enemy who is too strong for me, and he will bring me out into a spacious place. He will rescue me because he delights in me (Psalm 18:16-19).

Now, a request for you. Please don't worry about me. Instead, pray for me when I come to mind. As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 1, I felt in my heart the sentence of death, but it happened so that I might not rely on myself but on God, who raises the dead. "He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope, that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers" (emphasis added).

You keep helping me by your prayers, and God will continue to deliver me.

What Am I Waiting For?

On our recent visit to Vancouver, Bill's mom kept asking everyone if we were making resolutions for the new year. No one took her up on that. She said her resolution is to learn to relax, to go with the flow. She followed through with that by serving us store-bought lasagna one night (three kinds!) so that she could go to Capilano Suspension Bridge with us that day instead of slaving in the kitchen. The lasagna was quite tasty, and we all had a wonderful time at the bridge.

But I didn't give resolutions another thought--until a few days after we got back home, when I was suffering from a bout of insomnia. As I lay awake for hours, I pondered the three types of people: 1) People who aren't afraid of anything and will try everything, 2) people who are afraid of everything and won't try anything, and 3) people who make themselves try things but then are tortured by fear.

Can you guess which group I belong to? Yes, you're right. Group 3. I'd love to belong to group 1, but if that can't be arranged, I'd rather belong to group 2. Because group 3 is such a frustrating place to be. I'm afraid of so many things, but I'm even more afraid of missing out on things. I'm afraid of big things and little things, important things and trivial things. Things like phoning a friend I don't know well yet, or breading and frying eggplant by myself (Bill usually does the frying on those rare occasions when we fry things in our house).

One of the things I'm most afraid of is skiing, and it seems to get worse every year even though my skills are marginally better each time we go. This time, it had been two years since our last ski trip, and I had a jumpy feeling in the pit of my stomach all the way to Mt. Baker, in Washington. I was dreading the cold, and the achy muscles, and the humiliation of tumbling end over end and landing on my behind, with snow creeping up my sleeves and down the back of my pants.

Although I said nothing about my fears, Bill remarked that maybe I'm getting to the age when I should just stay behind, that there's no point doing something if you're not going to have fun. This rather hurt my feelings--I'm only 40!--but I think it hurt more because he was echoing my own thoughts. "No!" I protested. "I want to be there when Allyson learns to ski. I want to see how good Ethan's getting on the snowboard."

As it turned out, I really didn't see all that much. Bill spent all morning on the bunny hill with Allyson, who barreled fearlessly down the slope but just couldn't get her "pizza" stance down. "Sorry! Sorry!" she'd say, just before she plowed into another hapless bystander. Bill said if she couldn't stop, she couldn't go up the mountain.

Rather than stand in the cold and watch Bill trudging up the hill over and over with her, I decided to ride the lift up with the rest of the family. "Is it a green slope?" I asked anxiously.

"I don't know," my nephew Kurtis (age 11) replied. "They don't really have colors. But it's pretty easy."

Kurtis (Age 11) Making a Glass Ornament at Capilano

"Yeah, come with us, Auntie Sarah," said his sister Katie. "Will you ride on the lift with me?"

Katie at Capilano (Age 7)

"I might knock you down," I warned, so she rode with her dad.

The scenery on the way up was breathtaking, awe inspiring. Or it should have been, but I was too busy worrying about how all four of us (Kurtis, my sister-in-law Lisa, Ethan, and me) were going to get off that chair at the same time. I probably said a prayer about it, and I guess God was listening because we all managed to get off pretty easily.

Lisa's husband Cory pointed the way to the "easy" slope, but I wasn't sure I understood his directions.

"Just follow Katie," Lisa said. But Katie zipped down the slope and out of sight before I had completed my first wide turn. All of them were gone, including Ethan, who thought he might not remember how to snowboard.

All except Lisa, who was following behind me, I guess to make sure I didn't get lost.

With superhuman patience, she talked me down that mountain. "Now go over toward that tree. Okay, turn! Turn again. You can do it! Perfect turn!" she hollered.

"Thank... oof!" I cried. My center of gravity had shifted too far back, and down I went onto my behind. "I'm okay!" I said, using the pole to push myself back on my feet.

Over the next 20 minutes or so, Lisa continued to coach me down slopes that seemed steeper and steeper. She said I was doing great, but not once did I relax. Instead, I spent all my energy trying to stay alive.

At last I crested a hill and saw the rest of them waiting at the ski lift. I made it! I exulted. I'm alive! Now I could go and check on Allyson. But where was the bunny hill?

"Get in line," Kurtis said right after I slid to a somewhat smooth stop next to him and Ethan.

"I don't think I want to go up again yet," I said.

"Oh, but we have to. That's how we get back down to the lodge where we were."

Ah, so this was a different lift. "Is it a green?" I asked hopefully. "Because I think that last slope was probably a blue."

"They don't really have colors," Kurtis repeated. "But this next one's pretty easy."

This time I rode with just Kurtis and Ethan, and we went way, way up to the top of the mountain. My hands were burning with the cold despite two layers of gloves, and the drips from my nose felt frozen. The view from up here was indescribable, and I tried to admire it, but my thudding heart drowned out my silent praises to the Maker of all this beauty.

Do not be anxious about anything, but pray about everything, I reminded myself. I prayed all during Kurtis and Ethan's chatter. I prayed while we dismounted from the lift--again with no problems. And I prayed when I saw an even steeper slope waiting for me.

Once more, Lisa stayed with me and helped me pick out my path, and she waited with me when I had a big wipeout, the kind that makes your skis pop off, and then you have to stand on a ridiculously steep hill and try to clip your snow-covered boots back into them.

But I made it down alive, and you can imagine my relief when I spotted Bill and Allyson at the bottom of the last slope--just before a snowboarder knocked me down right in front of them. (Only my pride was hurt.) 

And that was the end of my big, fun day of skiing. Under other circumstances I would have forced myself to go up one more time, and I might have had a little fun on the parts I knew were safe, or maybe I would have found the real green slopes and tried those. But Bill had been with Allyson for hours, and I wanted him to have a chance to use his $50 lift ticket, especially since I knew he would actually enjoy himself, which he did.

Meanwhile, I had fun getting warm in the lodge and drinking cocoa with Allyson. Maybe Bill was right, I thought. Maybe I am getting too old for this.

The Resolution
But I thought about it some more on that night of insomnia, and it made me mad. Why do I have to be afraid all the time? Why can't I let go of control and trust that everything will be okay? Why can't I have a little fun now and then like everyone else?

What bothers me the most is the way I'm afraid about my novel. I should be having so much fun writing that first draft, but instead I spend most of my time worrying--that it won't be good enough, that no one will want to read it, or that they'll read it and they won't like it. It's enough to make me want to quit, and I probably would have if it weren't for the encouragement of friends and family.

I don't know how it's going to happen, but I've decided that 2011 is going to be my year for letting go of fear. I think the key will be my new memory passage, the one about being rooted and established in God's love.
According to 1 John 4:18, perfect love casts out fear. So I'm betting that once I begin to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, I'll be able to start enjoying that abundant life He wants to give me.

What about you, which group do you belong to? Are you fearless, fearful, or in between? How do you deal with your fear? Can you have fun doing something you're afraid of?