Conquering My Fears

I have been dying to blog about the incredible trip Gary and I took to Lake Powell, but I have to introduce that post with a little explanation. As my dear, dear Heather and I talked about earlier on the phone today, my family and I have recently had a very traumatic experience (please refer to my earlier post "Refiner's Fire"). I had thought, as I laid in my hospital bed, that my very nature would be magically changed by that life-altering, and hopefully, life-improving experience. I hoped, and still hope, that I would be able to use my experience to make me a better, stronger, more grateful, more patient, and less fearful person. But, these things still take effort. I still have to choose to let my experience make me be those things. I try to remember what I learned in the hospital to help me be more patient. I'm so grateful everyday that I have the strength I need to take care of my family and play with my little boys. When Spencer is crying, I remember when I couldn't hold him and I missed him so much, and then I'm indescribably grateful that I get to hold him and comfort him.


Now, to the making me a less fearful person. Heather and I laughed at the fact that even after almost not making it, and feeling very little fear during all of that, I am freakishly afraid of . . .moths! They're so erratic and unpredictable and furry, and when you smash them they turn to dust before your very eyes! I mean, come on! Who's with me here? Also, I'm terribly afraid of deep water; not necessarily what's in the deep water. I just picture me, 5 foot 4 (on a good day), and two hundred and fifty feet of dark water beneath me. Though, another fear is little fish coming and taking little nibbles off of me, or even one just swimming by me and, heaven forbid, touching me, or even looking at me! I am also not a fan of bats, or heights, or closed-in spaces. But alas, these things are all a part of Lake Powell. No one told me I would have to face every fear I had all at once! (Except for clowns, but luckily, I didn't see any there.)

Anyway, a few weeks after I got home from the hospital, the phone rang. I hobbled over and answered it and it was my Uncle Rich inviting us to Lake Powell. I was barely able to walk, really, and I was so weak, but we knew we just had to make it happen. I said, "We'll be there." I knew Gary and I needed a vacation (it has been 7 1/2 years, after all, and we've been through a lot recently), but I didn't know it would also be an opportunity for me to test my resolve to be less fearful. I'm very sorry for this lengthy introduction, but just know that our trip to Lake Powell was beautiful, fun, relaxing, and amazing. But also know that Lake Powell, to me, is also a place of triumph! (not to be dramatic or anything!)

In conclusion, it was berry berry flavor. Sorry, inside joke. I couldn't resist. Without going into details, it's just something to say after a long, drawn-out explanation. . . . If you want details, contact me, Heather, Kristine, Ed, Cari, my Dad, my Mom, "Nancy", or the suburban. I don't know about you, but I'm laughing out loud. It's way too late. What am I doing? Good night!