This morning, Curious J and I had a follow-up visit with Masha, our homeopath. In the course of our visit, Masha asked if J had anything she was afraid of, such as heights, certain animals, the dark, anything like that. No, I responded, she’s not really afraid of anything as long as she’s with me.
As Curious J is growing older, I sense that her personality is a lot like mine, although it’s hard for me to put that into specifics. I just … sense it. But one way that I strongly suspect that she’s like me is that she’s rather fearless, as long as she feels she is in control of the situation. I remember being that way very strongly when I was growing up and in my early adulthood years. I really was afraid of nothing (except reptiles, but everyone’s got something!) But getting up on stage? No problem. Singing solos in concerts? No problem. Hanging over the edge of the Royal Gorge on choir tour to get cool pictures and getting severely chastised by a park official? You bet! Getting married young? No problem. Moving 2000 miles away from family and friends? No problem. Teaching a 43 voice choir of hormonal 7th and 8th graders? Well, I learned to be tough, but I did it! Having a natural childbirth? Oh yeah! I felt so high after the accomplishment of Lyd’s birth that I was on Cloud Nine for weeks!
I was a good girl growing up. I was in control. I got good grades, I didn’t get in trouble at school, I didn’t go to parties (except for small, quiet parties with my close girlfriends). I followed the rules, listened to my parents, took good care of myself, practiced piano (at least) 30 minutes a day, accompanied lots of musician-classmates on the piano during high school and college, had good jobs, got along reasonably well with my family, and was an all-around Good Girl. When I had boyfriends, they were nice, respectable boys, and I didn’t have sex until I was married.
I had this idea that as long as I did things just right and kept things under control, Bad Things wouldn’t happen to me. Those things happened to other people, people who did Bad Things and then experienced the logical results of their actions. But I was a Good Girl, and I secretly looked down on other people who did those Bad Things. During my pregnancy with Lyd, it even to the point of thinking that, of course, I would not have a miscarriage, because those kinds of Bad Things didn’t happen to me.
And then a Bad Thing happened to me, one that I couldn’t control. I had a miscarriage. Not with Lyd, but with the next baby. And, with that one experience, my whole worldview was upended, and I had to change and discover a new, more realistic worldview. I had to grow up. I had to realize that the phrase “bad things can happen to good people” also applied to me. I had to learn to be kind to myself, and not feel guilty when things didn’t go the way I felt they should go. I also had to learn to be kind to others who had made (what I considered to be) bad choices along the way. I had to realize that, at my core, I was no different than those who had drank and partied a lot, ignored their parents, couldn’t find or keep a decent job, did drugs, dated loser boyfriends/girlfriends, had sex out of wedlock, even those who might have had abortions. I was just as sinful and prone to sin as they were; I was in just as much need of a Savior as they were, and I was not going to have a perfect life anymore than they were.
In some respects, I am grateful for my “good” teenage and young adult years. Because I was a “good girl,” I experienced a lot of blessings. Thanks to my good grades, I got good scholarships (which was a blessing because my parents didn’t have a lot of money). Thanks to my staying away from parties, I never got in trouble with the police, never was involved in any car accidents while high or drunk. I didn’t mess around with sex before I was married, so I don’t have any STD’s or unplanned pregnancies or unwanted memories to deal with. And, when you follow the rules and do well, opportunities are available to you that aren’t necessarily available to others. I always had good resumes and good report cards, which opened up doors to good opportunities. Hard work does pay off.
But, being good doesn’t mean you’re immune to problems. And it certainly doesn’t mean that random bad things can’t happen to you. Like a miscarriage. Like a car accident (that is not your fault). Like a wildfire (my new natural disaster fear). Like an illness. Like the death of someone you love. You can be a Good Person, and bad things can still happen to you.
As I talked to Masha today about my recurrent anxiety, she asked me what I was afraid of when I have those anxious times. I wasn’t sure specifically, and then I realized that I’m simply scared of Bad Things Happening. Things that I can’t control. Considering my past, one can see why that would be a bigger fear for me than the average person. But, every day I try to stay in the moment, try to not project into the future, try not to “overthink or become overwhelmed,” try to remember that no matter how much I am NOT in control of a situation, God IS in control, and he promises to work all things out for my good.
I’m not done learning those lessons. I don’t think I will ever finish learning them this side of heaven. But I keep forging ahead, thinking of those, living and deceased, who have faced equal, if not harder, situations, and who got through them with God at their side. And I know that everything will be already is okay.
And what about my fearless baby, who was the opening topic of this blog? I hope that she never loses that fearlessness, but I hope I can teach her a healthy dose of reality as well, along with the knowledge that no matter what happens to her, God will always make it work out for her good.
Not Finished Yet 