I’m writing to you a little out of breath after sprinting from Terminal E to Terminal C in the Atlanta airport where I’m sure I got my 10,000 steps in for the day as I barely made it onto my next flight home. I flew into North Carolina on Monday to speak at a Keller Williams Cultural Summit on Tuesday morning. As always, it was a breath of fresh air to connect with so many incredible people, hear their stories, and have the privilege of encouraging them through life’s challenges. Their hugs, vulnerability, and encouragement were just what I needed coming off of a rocky week.
Last week, I awoke in the middle of the night to loud pounding on my front door. I was in a deep sleep and it took me a second to process what was actually going on. Fear gripped the pit of my stomach. At first I thought maybe something bad had happened to one of my parents and they were trying to get a hold of me, but couldn’t reach me as my phone was in Airplane mode. I reached for my phone as silence fell over my house. The banging stopped for a second. By the time I took my phone off Airplane mode and realized no one in my family had called or texted me, the banging on my door started up again even louder than before.
The knocks were intense, as if someone was in a panic and needed help. My neighbors all know my phone number and I knew they would call me if they needed me, so I decided to call the police. At this point, I was almost paralyzed with fear as I looked at my little girl sleeping soundly next to me and envisioning the worse case scenario. The police officer came in what felt like an eternity later and found no one. I asked the officer to stay while I packed up my little girl and drove to my parent’s house for the night. After talking with all my neighbors the next day, I learned none of them experienced any pounding on their doors. My imagination went wild as to why my house was singled out and that same cold fear crept into my belly once again.
Needless to say, this experience left me feeling vulnerable, fearful, and not protected. In my early years of marriage, I refused to sleep at our house if my late husband, Andrew, was out of town. I was too scared to stay by myself. After Andrew passed away, I felt I had turned a corner and become much braver about being alone. I felt incredibly frustrated that this recent experience somewhat took me back to a place in my life when I was afraid of pretty much everything. I think what scared me the most was the fear of something happening to my little girl and me not being able to protect her. When I was married, I completely depended on Andrew to keep us safe, and now the reality is it’s my responsibility.
After coming down from the shock of it all, I’ve chosen to take an even more proactive approach to protecting us. Ultimately, I ask the Lord to protect us, and at the same time, I’ve realized the importance of doing my part to be as prepared as possible in case something bad does happen. I hate that I even have to deal with this, but better safe than sorry.
Fear has kept me in bondage for way too much of my life, so instead of allowing my fears to consume me, I choose to face them head on with action, faith, and trusting in God’s ultimate plan. Remembering how my husband faced his fears during his final days continues to give me courage and inspires me to choose faith and action over fear.
“For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love, and self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7 (My life verse). Love and Blessings.
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