Fear ruled my life as a child. Since
I didn’t know how to process the death of my brother and the grief reaction of
my parents, anger erupted over seemingly inconsequential things. Doorknobs left
holes in walls; biscuits flew across the table like torpedoes; and nightmares
plagued my sleep. Thus, night after night I dreaded going to bed. Every shadow,
every creak represented a bigger-than-life monster.
At four, I didn’t realize the real
monster was grief and loss. That’s what triggered my “unexplained” anger and
fear, which I learned later my parents longed to address but didn’t know how.
At best, Mama tried to soothe me with scripture, then left the light on in the
hallway. Invariably, however, I’d end up terrified, screaming, “Mama, Mama!”
until finally I heard her voice at the bottom of the stairs. “Come on down,”
she’d say, her tone laced with exhaustion and frustration.
Embarrassed, but relieved, I’d creep
down the lighted steps and crawl in bed beside Mama. Daddy would grunt and roll
over, never acknowledging my fears. I guess he thought Mama was best for such
things. Little did he know how much I needed him—to take me on his knee, to
hold me, to assure me, to listen to my fears, to really hear me.
Mama would ask, “What are you so
afraid of?” Her twisted features left me feeling less than adequate, like
something was really, really wrong with me.
“I don’t know,” I’d reply, equally
frustrated with myself. I felt like shrinking into the covers, dissolving,
becoming invisible. Anything to make the horror go away and my parents think
better of me. Because, surely, they were disgusted with me.
Eventually, my nighttime trauma
dissipated. Somewhat. It’s likely I only learned how to mask my fears. Without
intervention in the form of loving, godly guidance to help unearth the root
causes of my fears, they only morphed into other angers and fears. Which
erupted into negative behaviors: irritation over little things,
performance-driven living, defensiveness.
It’s taken a lifetime of living with
and learning from my heavenly Father who continually calls me into His light.
To get to the bottom of my fears. In His presence, He uncovers the causes and
applies the comfort. He provides a loving community of believers in which I
find wisdom and healing.
We all deal with unpleasant
emotions, often generated from our thoughts surrounding circumstances beyond
our control. But our Father, who is intimately acquainted with all our fears,
calls us down the stairs of our grief and loss and into His marvelous revealing
and healing light.
~~
Eileen
Rife, author of Laughing with Lily,
speaks to women’s groups, encouraging them to discover who they are in Christ
and what part they play in His amazing story. www.eileenrife.com,
www.eileen-rife.blogspot.com.
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