A Fearless Song

My daughter thinks I am fearless; I have a sneaking suspicion that she is right. Growing up with a mom who was so very fearful, I decided at an early age that I was not going to live that way. My poor mom was afraid of storms, afraid of snakes, afraid for our safety, afraid of being home alone with us at night…… the list goes on and on. Even as a child, my heart went out to her, carrying so many fears. I resolutely decided then, that I would be fearless, and so I was.

I explored endlessly in the woods and pastures around our house; I climbed trees and rock outcroppings and muddy banks. I dug into crevices with sticks, to see what would come out. I almost drowned myself when I was six, because I could not swim but I had no fear of the water. Almost broke some bones when I was eight because I felt sure I could skate, even though I had never been on a pair of skates before. And I DID break both my arms (at different times). My mom called me clumsy, but I don’t think I honestly was. I was just very adventurous, coupled with wearing clunky corrective shoes that weighed about five pounds each. During the summer, I would pour them full of sand and dirt, just to get the feel of being able to go barefoot.

As I grew up, my adventures took a different turn. I no longer climbed trees, but I remained fearless in other ways. There was a time when hitchhiking was my preferred means of travel; I have hitchhiked to and from more places than I care to remember.  One summer, my friend Kathy and I planned to hitchhike from Arkansas to California, to see the ocean. Our trip was cancelled only because her parents forbid her to go. I remember thinking "Oh gosh, Kathy, you told your parents???!!" My parents never knew.

Once I bought a car, I was the one picking up hitchhikers. If the hour was late, sometimes I would bring them home and let them sleep on my floor until the next morning. I’m telling you, I had NO FEAR.  Now I know that God had His hand on me, even then. He has protected me more times, from more things than I am even aware of. Being fearless is not necessarily a good thing; I think being courageous is better, and that is what Summer is.

Summer has always been a child who loved routine and sameness. When she was little, she never enjoyed new clothes, because she loved the sameness of her old clothes. She never wanted her furniture rearranged, and she didn’t particularly love going out to places. She much preferred staying home, in an environment that was familiar to her. She didn’t like new adventures or anything that was unfamiliar.

When she was 18, I insisted that she move into the dorm at the university. She lasted one semester, and she was miserable in an unfamiliar environment. Reluctantly, I let her move back home again, but secretly doubted she would ever be able to tackle this big, scary world. She has proved me wrong, over and over again.

In the past 4 years, she has moved away from home, lived by herself for a time in an apartment, graduated from college, gotten her RN license, gotten married to the love of her life, gone to work at a huge university medical center taking care of the most complicated of patients, bought a house, and given birth to my first grandchild.  I know that she has the most tender and gentlest of spirits, and I know that every one of these things were hard for her; they were all unfamiliar, and things she had never done before. In spite of that, she did them all, and did them well. I suspect she did them AFRAID, and I believe that’s what true courage is.  Being afraid, but doing hard things anyway.

This week, she applied for 3 new jobs at the hospital where she works: a day shift and a night shift position in Labor and Delivery, and a night shift position in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. She has no nursing experience in either of those areas, but she says she is ready to learn a new skill set. I haven’t asked her, but I feel sure that she is doing this afraid as well. I may be fearless, but she is courageous. And that is why she is my hero. Her grandmother would be so proud.

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A few random pictures….

My stick pile made an amazing fire!

My sweet husband cooking our supper!

It was yummy!

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Summer’s 27th birthday present from Chuck and Me

Sissy and Emmi

Sweet Emmi and her sheep-blankie