Sleepless Flight

In the darkness of my home, I imagine crossly that the boisterous bird outside must be the most desperate bachelor in the entire North American continent. Whatever gal he’s trying to attract surely must be sleeping.

It is half past midnight, and it seems so weird to me that a bird is out there, singing in the black of night under the invisible new moon. He seems not to care who he awakens, his pride full-grown.

His night song is persistent, shrill. I want to yank open the door and throw a shoe at whatever tree he sits in. I would never, of course…but the thought crosses my mind. Trying to tune him out, my thoughts return to an upcoming flight and I look helplessly up to the ceiling which I cannot see.

It’s stealing my sleep again. Not the bird, but the worries. This is not new, this overthinking of flying. I love to travel, but I do not like getting to my destination by air. And yet four times this season I will be facing the giant big scary sky. My wanderlust must be greater than my unease, but on nights like these I question my choice to explore.

I scowl when the bird goes on and on, once again he interrupts my worry. Accepting that he will not be silenced, I slowly realize I could be grateful he is there. I could let him be a welcome distraction from my fear of flying….the thing that keeps me up days and days and days before I ever set foot in an airport. But it is a battle, this choice of gratitude versus distress.

Squeezing my eyes shut, my senses are flooded with discontent at the thought of being on an airplane. Apprehension so strong I can feel it weighing me down, as if I’m restrained in the same way I once saw my grandmother as she was tethered to her wheelchair in the Alzhemier’s unit. The fun of it all has been sucked out of me, replaced with big fat fear. This leads to other worrisome thoughts, and I clench my teeth with the realization I’m letting it get the best of me. Again.

Through the thick, closed window panes and through the deep walls keeping the fresh air out, the night bird’s music keeps trying to remind me of something important. Summer has brought a warm tossing-turning night, and I gather my strength to kick off the covers. The window begs me to open it, but I won’t dare.

Ridiculous! I’ve been done with the anxiety. I’ll not let this bring me back to it. I shove myself out of the bed and blindly search for my glasses in the dark. My hair is annoying me, I need it off my forehead and off of my neck in this airless room. The fan is too weak, and at this moment so is my mind. I begin to pray for strength, for calm. There is so much world to see, so much laughing to do, so many people to meet, and experiences to dive into…I will not give in to this joy wreck.

As I quietly pad my way into the living room, my feet relieved to meet cool floors, I pray all the way to my favorite chair. The birdsong follows me to where I now sit with head bowed, forehead too stubborn to assist the tears which fight for release. His tune changes from frantic to sweetly melodic, and I belatedly make the connection that this nighttime companion is also connected to flight. I smile, surprised by the thought…and I think on the amazing wonder that air travel is even possible for humans.

The rhythm of the clock nearby steadies my heart, and suddenly the C.A.L.M. acronym from a recent Max Lucado book, Anxious for Nothing, flashes in my memory, the four letters white and flickering like a neon sign in the dark:

C-Celebrate God…Lord, thank you for being here with me, thank you for the opportunity to take these trips to see new places. 

A-Ask God for helpFather, please take this anxiety from me. Please help me to sleep and breathe and stop worrying over what I can’t control.

L-Leave the problem with God…I give this to you, God. Your Word says to “fear not”. So I’m just going to try really hard to do that. 

Breathe. Deep breath. I sit for a minute to give my thoughts some space. The bird is silent.

M-Meditate on good things…Thank you, Lord, for that night bird and thank goodness he finally quieted down so I can get some sleep and for reminding me of your presence.

Again, I breathe. A little deeper this time. And the air, while still not fresh, feels a little cooler and more bearable. My thoughts continue to tread on the good things. I remind myself that, for me, it’s the only thing that will cancel out the fear…the choice to think of one good thing at a time. Thought by thought.

As my fears begin to wane, I am reminded of all the ways that flying is fun and most always safe. My mother’s voice echoes in my ears from when she told me earlier in the day that just being in my house or driving a car is putting myself at risk of danger.

“So why not fly?” she countered matter-of-factly.

Her excitement for me in my adventures brings a big smile to my face. And I begin to softly imagine the lilting accents I will soon hear, and the lovely green foliage my eyes will feast on.

The pulsing rush in my ears has stopped, and I dig in Grandpa’s Desk for the little notebook of bible verses. The emerald and gold cover has edges worn, some rips and bends, but I don’t mind. I run my hand across the cover which says “Happiness is a bright and shining thing.”  This little gem has seen me through many fears, many flights.

It holds words I’ve highlighted and literally held onto…our future only truly known to God—whom I love and whom I am learning to trust, breath by breath. I joke with my friends about airport margaritas being my saving grace, but really it’s the selfless protection of Jesus. I read through the verses in the little book again, and I know that no matter what all will be well.

Before I go back to sleep, calmer now, I will leave these verses with you in case you need them, too. I will always needs them. Reading them once will never do. But each time I am reminded that I am in good hands, and each time I can feel strengthened and resolve to be a conqueror. And as I leave this paragraph, I hear the bird again…and this time I’m not annoyed for I remember it is, after all, his love song.

From My Fear Not Journal

  • “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous hand.” -Isaiah 41:10
  • “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your mind in Christ Jesus.” -Phillipians 4:6-7
  • “When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.” -Psalm 56:3
  • “For God did not give us a spirit of fear but of power and love and self-control.” -2 Timothy 1:7
  • “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time He may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you.” -1 Peter 5:6-7
  • “Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.” -Deuteronomy 31:6
  • “I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” -Psalm 34:4
  • “Therefore, I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” -Matthew 6: 25-27

Do you have any verses, songs, or tips that help you in times of anxiousness? Please share them! Thank you.

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Ponderings

Write with me, Lord. Be my words. 

This was my prayer as I walked down the shadowed hall after a long day of work, a mountain of things to do gradually falling off my shoulders with every step toward the keyboard.

Be my words.

It is my prayer every time I write. And today I think again and again on the question “WHY do I write?“. Why do I come here, week after week, to tell a story…or to try to remind us both of God’s goodness and grace?

It’s part selfishness, part love.

The selfish aspect is that it comforts me to leave a legacy of some kind. At this web address will always be found a piece of me. In the chaos of everyday life, when the bell or the time clock or the agenda of the day drags us away from discussions of the heart and steals from us the breath of what really matters, I like knowing that I can come here so the person who needs it can read something that may make them smile…or think…or remember.

But the love part, the greater part, is having the space and place to freely speak of Jesus and how He loves you and me. The idea that maybe–just maybe–someone may see the positive side of a dreary situation and make the decision to see the light instead of being focused on the darkness: By sharing the victories in my life which have followed the battles I’ve encountered. Or simply noticing the beauty of the world around us amidst the clamoring debates and arguments and nastiness of the world.

I fear I’m not doing it right. I fear that I come here week after week trying in vain to be the encourager I set out to be and fail. My heart is so full of hope for others to find the salvation that only Jesus has given. The gift of eternal life. Or to help someone reconsider their sadness. And here I am telling again instead of showing…at least in this post. When really, it’s apparently through stories in which people connect with.

This leads me to I worry that I am not a storyteller. I worry about sharing too much…too little. I resist the advice to weave my words in a way that captures attention, and so instead I write plainly from my heart. In doing so, I risk lack of acclaim, lack of “sharing”, lack of “likes”. But the very core of my soul knows that none of that matters. The number of “hits” has nothing to do with resting in the love of God who already loves me so…and who loves you so, as well. He longs only for us to acknowledge Him and know Him and spend time with Him….to share the story of Christ to all.

Because of this, because of my prayer that God write with me, I often forego the “rules” of the writer. I ignore the fact that the most “hits” my blog has ever had was about my dog. I could write post after post about my dog in order to gain more readers, but I it feels strange to do so. At least, for now. I feel like in doing so it will be me wanting to conform to the writer’s world in order to earn a buck. Or recognition…or popularity.

Isn’t it so hard to not compare ourselves with others and just realize that we, too, are amazing? Let’s not put numbers on ourselves….instead, let’s leave the numbers to God, whose thoughts of each of us are so many that were we to count them they would be “more in number than the sand” (Psalm 139:17-18). Isn’t that where the true substance lies?

All I want to do is be here, and share words on a page inspired by the God who created us, who meets us here—you and me–in order to nudge us to think and reflect on life, love, and laughter. My God doesn’t want fancy words or perfection…He just wants me, as I am. And so, I show up and see what happens. Thank you for joining me on my journey of figuring out how to encourage. I’m still learning as I go.

Write with me, Lord. Be my words. Please. 

Image result for pink heart clip art loveRobin