I HATE risk, Lord. I have always had an amazing imagination, but it has sometimes run away with me. When an idea comes to me, my imagination runs wild with every possible outcome there could be: extravagant success, quick miraculous perfection of plan, fairytale ending, utter disaster, fleeting failure, destruction of all I hold dear. As I have said before, my fear tends to conquer my faith and the latter outcomes seem to fit more with my life, so it makes them easier to believe.
Example: all my life I've dreamt of being an early sitcoms style wife. You know the type: perfect household, dinner on the table when hubby comes home, fresh baked cookies for the kids everyday after school, obedient and heart filled children, a husband who smiled when he walked in the door because he was so happy to see me, volunteer work to fill my days, no fighting or arguing, but love all the time in my home. Add to that the memory that my daddy brought my mom fresh cut flowers almost every day "because a beautiful lady deserved beautiful flowers," and you'll get a hint of what my amazing imagination conjured up as my future. Instead I was a broken single mom of 2 by 23 and one of them had health issues growing up. My daughters' father immediately created another family and found himself unable to fit our children into that life. He saw them 2-3 times a year and even then only because his parents took the girls for the holidays, so it wasn't his choice, he was forced to see them. The tears shed when they'd come home would last for days because even with their presence there, he just couldn't find time to "be there" with them. He has seldom come to their sports, shows, awards or graduations; never taken an interest in their lives; doesn't call or message them. The only vacation they've ever been with him on was at the insistence of a girlfriend who confided she'd been told not to waste her time, they were too difficult. (She highly disagreed and is still friends with the girls even though it's been years since they broke up) They have always felt second fiddle. And to add insult to injury, his family has made excuses and even chastised my girls for not understanding why it is okay.
This is the way things tend to go for me. I have spent their lives trying to make sure that I was the best parent I could be for them. I tried to be at every turn, available in every time of need, and prayerful in every circumstance. But again, the superwoman my imagination dreamt up for me to be, has left me flailing and failing.
I have never been good at risk, but the experiences in my life have made me even less willing. My mother has filled me with the "what if" bug of reality check, and life has shown me challenges and the hills just seem so wide and the mountains of life so high. I believe beyond anything God is capable, but I'm not God and the people in life are often more interested in how to make themselves look good even if that means tripping me up.
The biggest risk I have ever taken was 10 years ago. After 10 years alone, I had a friend that I thought was maybe more. Like Mary, I ended up pregnant - unlike Mary, my poor choices and extravagant imagination led to it. This man didn't love me like that. He didn't see a happy family as an option. He really wanted me to choose him and let the baby go. I tried to be okay with that. I even went as far as to consider parents to raise this child, but I was a total mess and in a state of complete unrest. I couldn't sleep, and just felt filled with sorrow and darkness all the time. I wanted to be excited, but felt such a heaviness lingering. I tried to convince myself that this was the punishment for my choice. One night, during bible study with some women from church, I confessed how I was feeling, what I was thinking about doing and asked them to pray with and for me - that God would make this okay in my heart. One woman said, "Did you ever think that maybe you feel this way because this is not the choice God wants you to make?" So we prayed, and I told God that I felt I wasn't supposed to give this baby up, but I needed Him to confirm that in me. More than one woman there, including me, felt the Holy Spirit there confirming this choice to keep the baby. What a risk! I learned very quickly that this meant being on my own. I saw that it meant the condemnation of those I had entrusted for support. I experienced the loss of friendships I thought were based on His foundation. And that just emotional. Add the financial risk (I was barely making ends meet as the single mom or 2, now 3?), the location risk (we would have to move with no money to do so), the physical risk (carrying a baby under intense stress while raising 2 preteens), and the list could go on. But from the time I made that choice, that night when we prayed, I had complete peace. I didn't know how it would work out, just that it was what I was supposed to do. I had never before nor ever since felt the peace I did about this decision. And it has not been easy. I was put on bed rest in May. I had to prepare my younger daughter for an ambassador trip to California for 4 weeks in June. We had to move by June 30. I went into labor July 4 (baby due in September). I had a emergency c-section 10 days later. He was born with lung and heart issues. He was airlifted to a hospital without me a few hours after birth. He spent a month in a NICU an hour away. He went back to the hospital within weeks of coming home for a skull issue. By 9 months my pediatricians realized a problem and by 16 months I agreed. He has many medical problems and is diagnosed on the autism spectrum, but is the truest joy to anyone who knows him. So worth every bit risk.
So, if I can see the glory, why is the risk still so scary? I'm human. My life is filled with outside noise that often contradicts what I hear in my heart. God and I have been talking about this a lot lately. He's working on me and thankfully He doesn't give up...and neither will I!
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