The One Where Someone Else Faces Her Fear

This blog has turned into a journal of sorts, so dearest readers, feel free to skim or completely ignore this and any other post that wears on your nerves.

I just read a "tweet" on twitter that linked to a blog written by a Canadian Jesus-loving girl. In her post, Sarah Bessey wrote of facing her biggest fear and how it didn't turn out as she expected. According to Bessey, speaking about certain issues in public or on camera causes her incredible fear and anxiety. Here's part of what she wrote:

....I lost it.

I did. I blubbered. I cried. I was sweating. I was red-faced. I kept stopping in the middle to compose myself. I felt like running away. I sobbed. I had to restart three times. I was shaking. It was horrible, ugly. And my voice shook and squeaked, and I barked out sobs a couple of times.
It was one-part true emotion for the work we were undertaking and my passion for the Legacy Project, but it was also the fear choking me at the same time.
But I did it. When I finished, I laid my head on the desk and cried.

Strangely, I don't have the same fear. Thanks to a pushy caring pastor's wife, I was forced to get over that particular fear when I was but a wee middle school girl. (Who am I kidding? I have NEVER been a "wee" one.) However, I can completely relate to Bessey's gut-wrenching description of experiencing and facing fear. While reading it, I cried along with her, and then I cried when I realized how her words spoke to my own issues.

I'm not afraid of public speaking. Put me on stage--with or without a script--or put me in front of a classroom full of teenagers, and I'm (strangely) OK.

I'm afraid of private speaking.

You know what I mean. One-on-one. Especially when I don't know the person well or at all.

Alot of my fear stems from self-consciousness about my size. Now that I think about it, I find it very strange that I'm not afraid of being fat in public; apparently, I'm terrified of being fat in front of just a few people a time.... Weird.

When you want to get to the ugly truth, though, my self-consciousness is just a warped kind of sinful pride. I'm too preoccupied with myself and with how others perceive me. When it comes to genuine, Christ-centered living, this fear and preoccupation can destroy my effectiveness in His kingdom. It's time to take the focus away from myself and put it back where it's supposed to be: on Christ.

My weight is an issue. It IS a stumbling block for me and possibly for others, too. This weight thing MUST be dealt with.  More importantly, though, this fear--this sinful obsession with myself--must go.

And now that I've called this particular "spade" a "spade," God's gonna make me deal with it.

I'm going to be hammering out these issues of weight and fear for a while, I suppose.

Here's the rest of what Sarah Bessey wrote:

It was every bit as awful as I’d imagined, but I did it anyway.

I thought I would be rewarded for my efforts by a good experience.....But it doesn’t always work that way.

Sometimes the first step is just as awful as you imagined.

But you do it anyway.

And you keep doing it, over and over, until the root of that fear is dug out of the rocky hard soil, and you are free of it at last, and I believe God is making something beautiful out of it all.

Let's consider this post as a first step taken.

All I can do now is dry my tears and say, "Amen."

What about you?  What are you afraid of?

*************Here's the link to Sarah Bessey's original post. I've not read much else that she's written, so don't hold me responsible for her personal perspectives :) *************************

http://sarahbessey.com/in-which-i-confront-one-of-my-great-fear/

The One About the Homeless

This is a draft of a post that I started writing a few weeks ago.  I never really finished it, but here it is anyway.  Just thought I'd throw this out there into cyberland and see where it lands.
*******

I'm supposed to be writing something else right now, but I can't really concentrate on my assigned task until I sort through a few things that have been on my mind today. 
See these girls?

(Aren't they cute?)

 

These sweet things asked Phil and me if they could go with us downtown to feed lunch to the homeless.  Of course we said, "Of course!"

 

My friend Hannah and her husband Craig have been ministering to the down-and-out in the downtown area for a few years now.  They work alongside some individuals who have been serving Sunday lunch to the hungry and the homeless for quite a while.  I met Hannah at work last year and found out about what she and Craig and their kids were doing, and she invited us and our sweet youth and ANYONE WE KNOW to join them.

 

Let me tell you some of what we've experienced during our periodic excursions to downtown Memphis.  (WARNING:  My thoughts at this point are not in any way organized.  I'm afraid if I try too hard to put it together in a pretty package that I'll forget something that matters to me.)

• Several teenagers came through the line today.  I found myself wondering if they were still in school, and I wondered how it felt to go to class wondering if anyone had seen you in line for a handout.  I also wondered what circumstance had put those teens on the street looking for a meal.... was it a parent who was too drunk or strung out to feed them?  was it a sober parent who just wanted to take advantage of free food for the family?  were they runaways?  were they just regular kids who happened to be and about when the food was served?
• One of the wheelchair-bound regulars was recently diagnosed with cancer.  (He's in a wheelchair because both of his legs have been amputated.)
• Last week I saw a lady who was also a wheelchair-bound amputee;  I think she had a place to stay, but she was obviously still in need.  When she wheeled around to leave, I noticed that one of the wheels on the back of her motorized chair was broken, making it seem like she was constantly rolling through potholes.  I felt absolutely helpless to help her. 
• One guy who was known for picking fights, swearing, and complaining has settled down so much that Phil didn't even recognize him last week.  He goes by the nickname "Country."  Country hasn't been drinking and has been asking for prayer.  He's wanting to find his family and to find a way off the streets.
• Some of the people we serve are not really homeless, but many of them are still in need of food.  Some of them are probably able to work to provide food for themselves and for their families.  Homeless or hungry--able or not-- doesn't the fact that they showed up still make them worthy of compassion?
• I saw a few children go through the line today as well.  Children.  They can't help it.  Who is taking care of them?
• Phil fixed a plate for a baby boy who is about two years old.  He and his mom aren't always sure where they will be sleeping each night.  They've managed to be with friends most of the time, but things change from day to day.  Right now, I can't quite let my mind go there.... his mom looked like she hasn't been out of high school for very long.
• Most of the people who received food were glad to take what was offered. Many remembered their manners and expressed their gratitude often.
• Do you know anyone who doesn't like for the food on his plate to touch?  We've noticed that most of the people who go through the food lines are SO OVER that little inconvenience.  In fact, Drew is constantly amazed at all the tastes and textures of food that he has seen piled onto plates.  We've seen some completely fill their plates and still stay in line to have food served into plastic grocery sacks.  Some have even put pieces of chicken in their pockets.
• Some people do turn down some of the food items that are offered; a few have medical issues that keep them from eating certain things (I think one man we saw was a diabetic), but some just don't like what is offered. Part of me is like, "Hey, take what you can get if you're really hungry." But then, another part of me wonders how often I choose to be particular about the grace that's extended to me.... I can sure be full of myself....
• If I had to be homeless, I'd want to be homeless in this country. At least the homeless here have access to some public restrooms and to free, clean water--even if it's from a sink in a gas station.
• Today I could smell the alcohol on some of the people before I even laid eyes on them.  Again, part of me was thinking, "You could've used your money for some FOOD instead of drinks!"  But on the other hand, what had led them to drink themselves into that situation anyway? Was it bad luck? A bad habit?  Escape from stress or sorrow?  Most of us blend in with the rest of society quite nicely, but I bet our secret habits and addictions stink worse than stale alcohol l in the nostrils of the Almighty.  How astonishing that He doesn't declare us undeserving of forgiveness and grace.

Remember, I WARNED you that you'd see little organization to my thoughts.

*********
Yeah, so I never really finished that post or made a point or anything.  However, if you live near the Memphis area and want to lend a hand or contribute something, I'd be glad to direct you to some folks who can tell you how you can help.  Downtown Memphis isn't really my actual neighborhood and the homeless aren't my nearest neighbors, but we do share the same planet, and Jesus cares about them, so whatever any of us can do isn't a wasted or misguided effort.

I know this much:  it's getting colder outside, and warm coats, socks, and blankets would be greatly appreciated by many people.  If you have some you want to donate, give me a shout and we'll see what we can do about sharing some warmth. 

If you DON'T live anywhere near Memphis, I bet you can still find some folks not too far away from you that are in need of something that you can provide.  I think I'm going to start looking around for needs we can meet that are a little closer to home, as well....  Neighbors, it seems, are everywhere.  God help us serve them and love them well.

PS--We found out recently that the business in Memphis that has been the main contributor of meat has made some cut-backs, so they don't have as much to donate to the Sunday lunch effort.  If you have any ideas or know of anyone who can donate extra food, then I'll be glad to pass the info along.  Thanks.

Meet (or Remember) my Mamaw

In case you missed it and were curious, I posted an explanation for lack of current blogs.  If you've already read it or don't care to read it, well, fine.  If you want to read it, click here. 


About a week before we came home from Hungary, I dreamed about my Mamaw Garrard.  I dreamed that she and I were in her old house on Lakeshore Drive in Itta Bena, Miss.  I was in my Aunt Becky's bedroom with the door open, and Mamaw was sitting on her couch in the living room directly across from me.  In the dream, she wasn't saying much, and when I asked what she was doing, she told me that she was just enjoying looking at me.  Here's a picture of her with her sisters and one of her brothers on the couch I dreamed about.

Meet my Aunts Thelma, Sadie, & Dorothy.  Then, there's Mamaw and her brother Early.

(Becky, you look so much like Aunt Thelma to me....so pretty.)

 

On the same day that I had that dream, my parents sent me an email to let me know that Mamaw had been taken from her nursing home to the hospital in Greenwood.  I knew it was selfish, but I prayed that I would be able to be home in time to see her again.

 

And I was able to see her.  On the Sunday after we returned, we were able to drive to Greenwood to see her at the hospital.  She wasn't able to say anything to us; she was in so much pain, and even breathing was difficult for her at that point.  I was able to talk to her, though.  My sweet family left us alone for a little while, and I talked to Mamaw and told her everything I wanted to tell her--just in case we wouldn't be seeing each other again for a while.  I even sang for her.  I prayed for her.  And I said Thank you.  Alot. 

 

I thanked her for being who she was and for loving me and for loving our family.

 

I thanked her for teaching me to quilt and for trying to teach me how to make biscuits. (I can finally make them, but they're not as good as hers.)

 

I thanked her for welcoming my friends and my husband into our family.

 

I thanked her for showing us all what loyalty and devotion look like. (It's knowing all the many faults in your own family but being willing to fight to the death to defend them before others.  It's always being there--always.) 

 

I thanked her for showing me what perseverance looks like.  (It's consistent communication with the Father. It's continual prayers and petitions offered on behalf of those who are in need and for those who don't yet realize their need.   It's realizing that sometimes, you may be the only one doing what you're doing, but you do it anyway.)

 

And I thanked God for all of those things and for so many more.... Once-upon-a-childhood, my Mamaw--and my Papaw--helped fill up some empty spaces and mend some broken places in my little-girl heart, and I thanked God for them.

 

I can't say for sure, but I think she was aware that we were with her that afternoon, and I think she wanted to communicate with us.  For a little while, her breathing was calmer, and I could almost promise that her lips were moving--not in the struggle to take her next breath--but to speak to us.  I just patted her arm and told her it was ok.  That we were ok.  That we didn't want her to be in pain anymore.  That my heart hurt for my loss, but that I was so ready for her to be free. 

 

When Phil, the kids, and my aunt came back into the room, we sang some more, and we joined hands and Phil prayed.  Oh, what a precious memory.  I'm so glad we were able to see her, because it was in fact our last visit with her on this earth.

 

She's with Jesus now.  She went Home a few days after our visit.  My heart hurts for me and for the rest of my family, but mostly, I'm grateful.  I know where she is, and I know I'll see her again.  I know she's not in pain.  I know that she is absent from the body but O so very present with the Lord.

 

 

I think this picture was taken in the 1930s.

 

Becky, Mamaw, Daddy, & my cousin Dana--was this in the 1960s?

Mamaw & Dana

My aunts Linda & Becky, my uncle Charles, Mom, Dad, Papa, & Mamaw

(In case you can't see him, Papa is behind Mamaw's fabulous hair.)

Cousin Terry, Uncle Early, Aunt Martha, & Mamaw

Mamaw & me (I was 3 or 4)

She loved those flowers.  I'd give anything to sit on that old porch and shell some peas with her and Papa.

1988--The year we left Greenwood and moved to Memphis.  You know you love my totally 80's fashion--the obnoxious Esprit shirt, tight-rolled jeans, & high-top black Reeboks.

This is usually how I picture her in my heart--all dressed up and ready for church.

Mamaw & Papa at their 50th Anniversary party--  They had been married married 68 or 69 years when he died.  She was just 17 (or was it 16?) when they went to see the Justice of the Peace.

Me & Mamaw at one of my wedding showers

Mamaw loved to quilt.  She'd have friends over to her house or over to their furniture store to help her out sometimes.

That's Mrs. Annie on the left; she was a retired school teacher.  In the middle is Mrs. Raby; she didn't quilt, but she liked to supervise & socialize while the others worked.

On that particular day, Phil horrified my Mamaw (he LOVED to tease her).  We all sat down for lunch, and Mamaw had Mrs. Annie to ask the blessing before our meal.  When Mrs. Annie was finished praying, Phil said, "Mrs. Annie, you need to start saying your prayers at night so you don't have to pray so long before we eat.  The food's gonna get cold!!!!"

Of course, he was kidding, and Mrs. Annie laughed and laughed, but Mamaw was shocked and appalled--Phil LOVED to aggravate her--and she loved Phil anyway.

June 12, 1999--most of our Garrard family at my wedding.  Looks like Dana & Chris got out of there just in time.

Fall 2001-- Drew was their third great-grandchild.  Remember I said Phil liked to tease her?  Well, when Drew was born, Mamaw was full of questions about when he took a bottle, when and how often we bathed him, what he could eat, how long he napped, etc. etc. etc.  She was just curious because she didn't get to see us all the time.  So when she asked about us taking Drew out with us when we went grocery shopping, Phil said, "Oh Mamaw, we just leave him in the car by himself.  He sleeps and never knows we're gone."  She was shocked and appalled.

Summer 2003--Aubrey was their fourth great-grandchild.  (There are 6 now.)  I'm so glad my grandparents were able to meet my children.

I don't know if you can read it, but the card on that plant is from my dad's childhood best friend.  It says, "Your mom was awesome!" 

And she was.

I've posted that picture of Mamaw's promise box on Facebook so many times..... I love it.  For as long as I can remember, Mamaw would always ask family members and guests to "pick a promise" and have prayer before leaving her home. 

 

One of my sweetest memories of her was a time when one of my family members was going through an especially difficult trial.  Mamaw's cleaning lady Clementine was at the house, and Mamaw was so burdened for our family member that she had Clementine "pick a promise," and they both knelt beside Mamaw's bed and prayed.  I'm not sure Clementine was even able to read her scripture promise card--she was an older black lady, and times were much different when she and Mamaw were growing up--but Clementine knew how to pray, and her skin color didn't matter to God or to Mamaw.  And they prayed.  And prayed.  And prayed. 

And God heard them.  Even as a very little girl, I knew God heard them. 

 

"The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;  indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me."

Psalm 16:6

 

Please leave a comment here if you feel so inclined--and I hope you do.  If you remember my Mamaw, I know some of my family would really enjoy reading what you have to say.  Thanks, and I'll see you again soon.