I can honestly say I am not afraid of ebola.
I am not afraid that I will be blown up
by a terrorist.
I am not afraid that I will contract
Aids.
I have only had my cholesterol levels
checked once.
But, every now and then, when the
elevator door opens, I fear there might be a dead body in there.
On the writing journey, I have come to
realize that it's the stones in the shoes that continually irritate,
and slow the pen down. It's the nagging doubts about the call to be a
writer, the value of my words.
And time and time again God
provides reassurance and confirmation. He knows that I am made of
mud.
About
two years ago I went skiing in the mountains, after a lengthy time of
not skiing. At the time, I was close to completing my book on the
grief journey, and was experiencing a case of Capital-D
Doubt.
What was I thinking to let people in on my personal sorrow? How was
this all going to play out? I knew I was afraid ... the fear of
vulnerability.
Nature
nourishes my soul and this day I had planned to ski the mountains. In
order to go down a mountain, on two skinny pieces of fibreglass you
have to focus on the immediate. The slopes of Mount Norquay
intimidated me when I was younger, but I had almost forgotten. This
day the chair lift took me to the top, I could see the valley of ten
peaks to my right, absolute beauty all around, a sense of majesty,
the bigger picture; and then, there was little old me. And I felt
that recurring fear, what
was I thinking to get on this lift?
Now I'm at the top of a mountain, and somehow I have to get down.
At that moment, I had a flashback to when I learned to ski ... the taste of fear in
my throat because I could not see ahead of me, unable to make my legs
move because all I could see was that the mountain dropped away. I had been
sure I would fall off the edge. A good friend came alongside and said
to me ... “Jocelyn,
the mountain will unfold.”
And it did back then and this day again. As I got to the edge, it was
not so steep, there was a way down to the next edge, and the next.
That day on the mountain, God reminded me with a personal object
lesson ... all these things going on ... they will unfold in their
due time.
Trust
in me.
It's
a process. I did not get chair-lifted down the mountain, No, I still
had to ski, but as I did, my legs regained their strength, I stopped to catch my breath, take a
moment to appreciate the incredible beauty, the sense of freedom, and
most importantly God's presence making me feel very much alive!
Too
often the fear of
the future steals my hope of the day ...
When
I reread my journals, I wonder why I seem to have to go over this
doubting business again and again. And then again. And praise God, he
keeps answering.
“For I am the Lord, your God,
who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not fear; I
will help you.'” Isaiah 41:13 NIV
When
the doubts return, I raise my right hand and picture God taking hold
of it, the help comes.
And I wonder if all writers are
doubters, or do only doubters write?
Jocelyn blogs at: http://whoistalking.wordpress.com
