For years, fear lurked under the surface like a low grade fever.
In my frenetic busyness and in my quiet moments, it came — that seeping hot with bouts of chills.
Sometimes my skin seemed thin as tissue, so sensitive to the fingers of afraid.
Sometimes it still does.
Many first memories are fears. Of the creepy lights that danced across walls, of the day at the playground where the skin of my forearm got pinched in the swing set at the top where it attached to the cross bar, and I couldn’t get it free. I still bear the mark.
In my teens, my first high school B+ carried fear that Stanford would no longer want me and maybe I wasn’t supposed to be a lawyer after all. So I padded my resume and filled it with such a broad range of activities that any faraway college admissions person could see all I cared about.
I deeply feared being minimized or misunderstood.
Through years, fears have crept close with their claws and low voices that only I hear, whispering that I need to do something else, that I’ve dropped that ball, that I’m not enough and never will be as a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend. Fear whispers that the dream inside is dying, or dead.
Some days I’ve felt brave. Spoken the afraid aloud to my people, turned a giant spotlight on those ugly accusing fears and yelled, “So what?”
And other days I haven’t felt brave at all, and so the opposite of afraid wasn’t courageous, but more like quiet trust.
The kind of trust that can be still and know, and this trust seeps through my body like the warmth of the heating pad that starts shallow and moves deep into fibers.
I don’t trust myself to do battle, but lay heart and hands open to God who holds me and invites me rest and to give these burdens too.
So here I am — one at a time, scooping up the fears and casting them away from me, leaving an ugly pile right there at his feet.
Joining up again today with the Five Minute Friday community of friends over at Lisa-Jo‘s. Today began with the prompt: AFRAID.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
ohhhh i love how this ties in with your ‘one word’…..
Such beautiful honesty here, without being dramatic or showy. Know what I mean by that?
There’s a lot to be said for being still and knowing…..
xxxxx
Thank you, Fiona. I so appreciate your words. Being still and knowing don’t always get enough play in my life. Loved reading more of your thoughts today, friend.
“Sometimes my skin seemed thin as tissue, so sensitive to the fingers of afraid.”
Your words are distilled, powerful. And brave, very brave.
Thank you, friend. Your encouragement here helps me speak brave words.
“… leaving an ugly pile right there at his feet.” Exactly where we need to cast them, Ashley. Wonderful reminder.
Thank you so much for joining me and for your words here, Julie.
“Scooping up fears and casting them away from me, leaving an ugly pile right there at his feet…” Oh the grace and mercy of the cross… of the love born there – Love your words and your lyrical style friend… such a beautiful thing for me to read today.
Thank you so much, Tonya. Yes, grace, mercy and love at the cross…what indescribable gift. I am truly blessed by your encouraging words.
Dear Ashley…I felt goosebumpy through my whole body when I read these words:
“leaving an ugly pile right there at his feet.”
Yes. This is what we must do. Surrender all of this, give it all to God…we cannot do this on our own. And, thank God, we have each other.
It is comfort to know you, my friend–to know you know this struggle, these fears, this quiet still knowing, this sweet surrender.
I can’t put my gratitude into words–I trust that you can feel it.
Embracing you with all of me. I love you, dear Ashley.
Yes, friend. We cannot contain this fear. We are not meant for it. How I love the scripture that says, perfect love casts out all fear! What freedom — surrender — in that. Thank you, dear one, for giving of your heart and love so freely. Bless you.
Pile them at His feet and walk free, sister! He makes it all beautiful.
Walk free, sister indeed!
Loved this! “I don’t trust myself to do battle, but lay heart and hands open to God who holds me and invites me rest and to give these burdens too.” YES! Is that not the way to freedom? Visiting from Lisa-Jo’s today!
Yes to freedom! Releasing that which we are not meant to bare, trusting in the one who gives courage to walk through fear’s middle. Thank you so much for joining me here, Karrilee! I’m truly thankful for the dear FMF community.
Hi dear Ashley
You have captured living faith beautifully with your quiet trust that can be still and know!! You sound a lot like King David reasoning with his Pappa often and then, coming to rest after he had spent his heart at our Pappa’s feet!
Much love, dear friend
Mia
After reading your thoughts on David today, I am feeling all the more grateful for your words to me here. I love how we can “work all this out” with God. It is not too much for him and as you say, Mia, what rest after we spend our hearts at his feet.
I love you, my precious niece. You are an awesome woman, wife and Mother.
I love you, Auntie. Thank you for your encouragement.
There’s definitely a difference between the truth you know and the places your mind goes in times of fear — one of the many reasons I’m grateful for the one who does not change, even when I am unsteady. For me, I also find much freedom in embracing that I am both enough and not enough…that releases me from the grip of fear and believing I need to be perfect.
I love the CS LEWIS quote, “we read to know we are not alone”….this this this I know and have known. Dropping my ugly pile at His feet with you. Right there with you. And terrible fear crept back this week when wept at feeling inadequate and misunderstood by one of my people, I thought there was a disappointment in me that I could not contain or understand. And so….Your heart I hold in my cupped hands of compassion for this place. You are a treasure.
What a great quote, Elizabeth! Isn’t that the truth?! Nothing like feeling inadequate and misunderstood by your own — that sort of pain and disappointment is so hard to bear, and I suppose we are not meant to. I am holding you close to me, too, friend. Praying you may you experience the God of all love and compassion meeting you in those places where fear creeps in. May you, too, know how much you are treasured, dear one.
I feel you’re speaking for me, too, in your own words – how I’ve felt the burn and the chill of fear, lurking beside me for as many years as I remember. Especially those fears of inadequacy and failure, friend, I still wrestle with those, too. I love here how vulnerable you are, and in that so brave – and how this courage can be loud and outspoken, but also quiet and humble. But I love, most of all, where all those fears end up – in that ugly pile at his feet – and what an incredible freedom and grace that is! You are certainly a treasure, as your friend said above.
Precious Amber, thank you for your words. It is so good to be reminded that vulnerability is brave because, as you wrote recently, the world tells us everything other. I know this, and yet I need to keep remembering this. And not just vulnerability for vulnerability sake, but trusting in the one who carries the broken, the fears and releases perfect freedom and grace in exchange. Bless you, dear friend, for walking with me!
I have always admired your steadfast pursuit of answers as they pertain to your life. You have been brave and honest in trying to figure it out. The interloper that assures us of disappointment and reminds us that the journey will always be bumpy and wanting is ‘Perfection’.
Yes, disappointment and imperfection are part and parcel of this life. I am so grateful to know that not only can I never be perfect, but I am held always by the only One who is.