Fear
There are a few blush colored blossoms on my Tulip Poplar in the front yard and a flush of scarlet azaleas are peeking through my front window. It is rather bizarre considering it is January, but this has been a strange winter in the South. My confused blooms are at risk if a frost or snow blusters through, as it is known to do in mid-February and it will make for a much less spectacular Spring. At least my tulips and daffodils are holding back a bit, so there’s hope.
Sally from "Nightmare Before Christmas"
I have fond memories of summers along the Atlantic ocean as a child. We spent all day boogie boarding, exploring tide pools among the coquina rocks and picnicking as a family on Saturdays. By the end of the summer, my skin was the color that caramel turns just before it is done and the sun’s warmth seeped into my bones, a hidden souvenir.
I felt that way again this summer as I sat on the sand at Fernandina Beach, with my nephews hopping around and crowing like the seagulls that circled us. Eyes closed, I breathed in the clean, salty air and felt the pleasant sleepiness of the heat settle in me. Peace. I didn’t know that I wouldn’t have this feeling again, but I am glad. I want to remember it just as it was.
Donald Miller, an author from the Northwest, posted a blog the other day about leading through fear. If you haven’t heard of him, run to Amazon (or the library), and grab any of his fabulous writing. His post was focused on leadership of people through fearful situations, but it got me thinking about parenting through fear. Until I became a parent myself, it hadn’t occurred to me that my parents were ever afraid or might not have known what they were doing. They were confident and fearless leaders to the three kids in our family and we slept well knowing we were loved and well taken care of. But that wasn’t the whole story.
I packed up my truck and waved goodbye as I drove back down the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains under a bright blue September sky. The radio was off and a cd was playing, I don’t remember which one, as I was musing about the family I had seen for speech therapy. There were 7 kids, all home schooled by mom, a work at home dad, and a fully stocked basement including 2 generators ,all hidden away on a secluded couple of acres. The kids were incredibly well behaved and polite, and I thought their survivalist lifestyle was a bit odd, but it seemed to work for them. “Why would anyone want to live so far away from civilization?” I wondered. That questions was about to be answered in an unimaginable way. A ringing cell phone brought me out of my thoughts to the sound of my best friend sobbing into the phone. All I could catch were snippets, “planes, crashed, New York, terrible.” Key points telegraphed in a message that I couldn’t understand until much later that day.
Has my hair turned completely white? Is my face frozen into a likeness of the mask from Scream? No? Are you sure? Okay, that’s good news because I let my son drive this weekend for an entire 45 minutes….in a large, empty parking lot….at 30 mph. I understand it’s not doing laps at the Atlanta motor speedway, but it was his first time (that I know of) behind the wheel of a car. I had been dreading this moment for years, but after a great week at school for him, I kept my promise and there we were.
I tend to be a teeny bit overprotective according to my children, and I agree. I always feel like I am tugging one back from the edge of danger and tucking them under my wings, my older one more than my youngest. He is most like me, a little more cautious and wary than his older brother who leaps first and looks later (ruh-roh!). My boys know that I am the one freak of a mom who is actually going to call the parents of whoever’s house they are headed to for the following reasons: a. do I know the family? b. are the parents home or even aware that kids are headed over? c. are they on parole or do have any weapons on them (just kidding…kind of)?
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