Monday, May 10, 2010

Fear and Loving on a Monday

My girl-dog's got some fear in her tonight. Last night a car backfired somewhere in Australia, and Abby stammered around for three hours, just sure that the world was ending. And then this morning, heaven help us all, it's stormy -- like thunder, lightening, potential for hail, kind of stormy -- and this really throws Abby for a loop. Looking for a place to hide, she climbed into the shower as I was opening the door to get in there myself...and she refused to get out! Awww man, was she ever mad when I turned that cold water on! I only wish I had had my camera in order to document the look of pure disdain on her little, puppy face!

So as I left for work, I drugged her up... Abby on drugs is brutal. She can't find her feet for the first two or three hours so all you can hear, is her falling up the steps or tripping over the dog bed as she paces around the house. My guess is, right now, she's riding out the storm in Brett's closet.

Fear is funny... it's controlling and manipulative and plays weird tricks on your brain. Fear keeps you stranded in a sea of "what-ifs" and "buts" and it weighs you down, so you trip over your own feet in an attempt to "just keep moving."

I can't help but wonder what "fear" is doing to the people of Haiti. Brett tells of children, who won't sleep inside, under their new roof, for fear of it collapsing... crying, despising, shivering, fear. He tells of hopeful parents, waiting for adoptions to come through... breathing, weeping, pacing, fear. He tells of patients waiting in clinic rooms... wondering, thinking, considering, fear.

I imagine the fear a mother feels, each time she sends her child to school and turns to comfort another, whose child did not come home that day... grateful, ashamed, survival, fear. I imagine fathers and brothers and husbands who fear letting their families starve, as they continue to struggle with abject poverty... shameful, tiresome, anxious, fear. I imagine church leaders trying to bring comfort to a torn flock, tearing at their own clothes from grief... grace-filled, sorrowful, sacrificial, fear.

I realize my fears are different. Privileged, white, middle-class, fear.

I guess we all have fears... safety of those we love, money, security, weather. Even the basics, like dark alleys and strangers with guns (apparently, I'm part of a 1940's film noir). Some even fear God. I'm not one of those.

At least not most days.

1 comment:

  1. You have a gift, my child. Awesome. I am fighting back tears at this very moment.