On fear

I’ve spent most of my life afraid.

When I was a girl, I was afraid of a lot of really big things.

I remember a time when I couldn’t sleep and had, what I now know to be, an anxiety attack at my grandma’s house in the middle of the night. I was worried that the house would catch fire and I would need to somehow get my three younger siblings out without us all burning to death.

I was 11.

My childhood memories include about a million episodes like this, interspersed between the math tests, the pool parties, the birthday cakes, and the debate team practices.

When my first child was born, in the weeks following our return home from the hospital, I became increasingly agoraphobic. I had this beautiful, sweet-smelling baby and I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to protect us out in the big, open world.

I was 29.

My motherhood has often been defined by my fears.

What if he never learns to read? What if the doctors don’t figure out how to help? What if I mess them both up and totally fail at being their mom?

If you have been reading my writing the past couple weeks, you also know the story of what happened with my husband in 2019.

 I was 45.

After that, it was like a layer of cold, dark fear covered everything.

What if he leaves me? How will I support myself and my children? What will we do about medical insurance?

And the deepest fears.

What if he doesn’t love me? What if I am abandoned and alone? What if I was wrong to trust him, to love him? What if I really am not worth fighting for and loving, no matter what life brings?

Then, all my worst fears came true. It all happened, just as I’d feared.

The fear I experienced felt exactly the same as a dark, numbing fear years earlier, when my youngest son almost died.

I was 42.

My child was very, very ill, suffering from potential organ failure and a life threatening reaction to medications prescribed the previous week. Because of hospital rules and his condition, I was not allowed to stay with him overnight. (Please, do not get me started on hospital rules.)

I was absolutely terrified. I was also incredibly loved.

My closest friends took me to a quiet place for dinner. They ordered me a little food and an alcoholic beverage. They listened to me and cried with me. They pitched in and paid for a hotel room for me for the week so I could be near the hospital.  They even brought me new, soft pajamas and a cozy blanket. 

I felt so much love from them and from God for sending them. But when I got to that hotel room, all I could think about was my son, alone.

As a mother, it was the worst night of my life. The next morning, I woke very early and began to pray for help to just survive the day ahead.

Desperate, I grabbed my bible and the Spirt led me to the story of Hagar.

In the very first book of the bible, we learn in Genesis 16 that Hagar is an Egyptian slave to Abraham and his wife Sarah. She was likely given as a gift to them from Pharaoh when they previously spent time in Egypt.

God promised Abraham that he and Sarah would have a baby together and form the family that becomes the Jewish people and the lineage of Jesus. But Sarah was likely around 65 years old. So, you can understand that Sarah is struggling to trust this promise. 

She really, really wants a child and in her fear, she offers Hagar to Abraham in the hopes she would conceive. It’s very Handmaid’s Tale and, although this was common place and legal at the time, it still means that Hagar has no say so in the matter. To further illustrate how powerless she is, any child she conceives will legally be Sarah’s.

Hagar runs away from the abuse and is met by The Angel of The Lord.

I was shocked to learn as I did the research that The Angel of The Lord is likely Jesus. Most Bible commentaries agree that when we read THE instead of AN angel of the Lord, it is the preincarnate Jesus.

Hagar validates this theory when she responds as if she is meeting God himself. 

This means that the first time we learn of Jesus interacting with a human being, it is a woman. Not only that, an immigrant – a broken down, busted up, abused foreign slave with absolutely no real power or options.

She calls Him El Roi or “The one who sees.”

Abraham and Sarah never call Hagar by name. She is just “the servant girl.”

But God calls her by name. The world sees Hagar as a slave and foreigner, but God looks at her as a person, a woman whom he has called for his divine purposes. Abraham and Sarah may have looked at her as an expedient way to have children, but God sees her differently. He knows her. He sees her real situation, and cares for her.

And in his care – he sends her back to the mess. Back to the fear and the pain. 

And. She. Goes.

Why?

I think it’s because she knows God, personally now, and she is known by Him…

Back to me, reading about Hagar in the hotel room.

In Genesis 21, we meet Hagar again. Her son is now around 13 years old and she has been cast out of the house.

Abraham sends her away for good with very little to survive on her own, much less to take care of her child. She is in the desert and homeless. Alone, desperate, and out of water, she knows that her son is going to die of thirst. 

It’s so terrifyingly painful, she can’t watch.

She places her little boy a ways away from her, so she doesn’t have to watch him die.

She begins to wail and cry out.

The Divine calls to Hagar: “Do not be afraid. God has heard the boy crying.”  The angel reminds Hagar of God’s blessing and then shows her the next step.

Turns out, when God opens her eyes to really see, there is a well of water right there, waiting for her to draw water from it and live.

I will be 50 this week.

My very worst fears have come true.

He did leave.

I am not sure how I am going to support myself and my children.

I wasn’t worth fighting for and loving no matter what.

I am terrified about what happens once the final paperwork has been filed and my children, both with chronic, and one with life threatening, medical conditions lose medical insurance.

It’s happened.

All my worst, most terrifying fears materialized, one by one, week after week, over the course of 4 months last year.

It began with him leaving, but with promises to care for us and support us, even as he began his new single life.

4 months later, he wouldn’t even return my calls.

He left me. Alone. With two children with exceptional needs. With very little support or regard for our well-being.

Turns out, it’s nowhere near as bad as I feared.

That’s right, I said what I said.

It’s not that bad. I’m actually OK.

Why?

Because I am Hagar, and even though I can’t see it most of the time, I know the well is there.

Although I have been tempted at times to hide my children, give up and just sob until we all die, there has been well after well after well to nourish and sustain us, as we walk into the unknown stretch of desert ahead.

This is what Hagar’s well has looked like for me this year:

• Wonderful clients and even friends who have given more and more opportunities to earn an income. They’ve also been incredibly gracious when I struggled in my personal life and was not able perform at the same level. (Seriously, I work for some of the kindest, most honorable people I know. Email me if you want a list so you can look into using their products and supporting small businesses who truly know what it is to do the right thing.)
• A paid for, move-out cleaning housekeeper for our family home when my son and I were moving out and I could not stop crying.
• A bathtub, filled with warm water to sooth my anxiety.
• Walks each morning, with random hummingbirds and butterflies fluttering by.
• Medication to soothe my anxiety when it becomes too overwhelming.
• Beautiful, loving women who listen to me wail and rage, and then send me sweet messages of encouragement along with Starbucks and Visa gift cards,  handymen to help me around the house, and even brand new AirPods when my left earbud dropped into my coffee and no longer worked.

My fear can’t compete with this list of good, loving, true things – and this is just the short list.

I could add more and more bullet points from this year alone, but we’d be here a lifetime.

Because the list never ends.

I know now, the well is always there.

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Prayer

If you would like prayer, please feel free to email me at [email protected] and I will happily pray for you this week. 

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