Read, Write, Love, Repeat

Most of my people know that one of my deepest fears in the world is snakes.  Seriously.  Not public speaking (which I sort of love), not Walmart on Black Friday, not socks with sandals, not losing cell service. Snakes.  Important to know as I share this story.

Two months ago I got of a plane at Dallas Fort Worth International Airport.  A month prior we sold our home in California.  We bought a lovely home in Watauga, a suburb of Fort Worth.  We packed all our earthly possessions, loaded them into a large truck and watched it drive away.  My husband and son were on a road trip, driving our cars cross country to our new Texas home, arriving in a couple of days.  And I flew (chronic illness perk, not complaining).

I had JUST stepped onto the concourse and switched my phone out of airplane mode when a text came through from my new Texas neighbor, with whom I’d been in touch on social media, etc.  The short version: “Be careful of snakes in your back yard.  The former owner found water moccasins back there a few times.”  Excuse me?  Do what, now?  No ma’am.  That was not what I signed up for.  At all.  Not just snakes but highly venomous snakes.  You’re telling me NOW?  I could feel my chest tighten and my pulse begin to quicken.  Sweat prickled the back of my neck in spite of the air conditioned terminal.  It was all I could do not to turn on my heel and climb right back aboard American Airlines flight whatever departing for Sacramento.   Snakes=deal breaker for this girl.

But.  I really had no way to “go back” to my former life.  Another family was now calling my Elk Grove house “home.”  No exit strategy.  I did, however, have a choice to make.   I could live limited by my fear.  And it is a BIG fear.  Or I could be prepared to face my fear.

I envisioned myself never-ever-ever setting foot in the new back yard I had fallen in love with, gazing longingly at it through the kitchen window, frozen with fear of the possibility things without legs MIGHT wander in or around my koi pond (quick aside: things that are alive should have either 2 or 4 legs.  no more, no less.  the end.).  Or I could prepare myself for what MIGHT be out there, keep a sharp eye out, and enjoy this beautiful oasis with people I love, drink my coffee by the pond’s waterfall as I talk to God in the mornings, and spend evenings outside with my husband under the twinkle lights with the soft Texas air.

Seems like a no-brainer, right?

But how often in life do we choose to remain stuck by our fear?  How often do we pass up a beautiful thing because something MIGHT go wrong?  How often do we turn away from God’s best for us because it’s really, really scary?  I have.  I do.  I admit.

However, when faced with circumstances that threaten to freeze me in anxiety, I have a choice to make.  I can control my response to the potentiality.

God is showing me that I may be afraid, indeed I often am, but I need to step out in faith rather than being stuck in fear.  That’s the very definition of courage: being afraid but saddling up anyway (Texas metaphor).

I don’t want to live my life limited by what scares me.  I want to live unlimited by relying on God’s courage.  I love this verse:

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. – 1 Corinthians 16:13

Please note it doesn’t say “walk around in a clueless manner, like nothing bad can ever happen.”  It says “be on your guard.”  So I will.  And I am.  And I will stand firm in my faith, trusting God will give me what I need to handle a scary situation.  I will be afraid but do what scares me anyway, courageous, so I don’t miss the beautiful thing just waiting for me.  And I will be strong in the times the scary thing does happen.

Can I control what slithers uninvited into my backyard?  If I can, I haven’t found how to do it yet.  But I can decide I won’t allow the possibility of reptiles prevent me from enjoying my backyard space.

I’m aware.  I keep my eyes open.   I don’t walk in tall grass without shoes, knowing what I MIGHT encounter.  I have a game plan, but I don’t avoid the backyard.  I don’t stay stuck in fear.

Easy to say, right?  But then. Halloween.  Taking advantage of a sunny Texas afternoon I opened the koi pond filter in my back yard to perform a routine cleaning, only to come face to face with my legless nemesis.  Staring me down with creepy, beady, dead-black eyes.

I tell the rest of the story in this blog post: Snakes, Fear, and Lessons Learned.  Suffice to say right now that I am writing this from my back patio.  In view of the koi pond.