When opportunities present themselves, I tend to be the sort of character who wants to be spontaneous in taking hold of them with both hands. In reality, though, a whole list of factors present themselves for my consideration and I find that what I want to do and what I am afraid of doing are the same thing. Sometimes fear causes us to respond on time with speed, so that we avoid danger. Other times, fear stops us from experiencing what is destined to be nothing short of a generous gift and memories made to draw on for a lifetime.
Our family and some friends have just been away for a few days on a houseboat. The invitation to go on this privileged holiday was met, by me, with eagerness and dread. The rest of the family didn’t appear to need to think twice, but I was plagued by thoughts of crocodiles, a huge expanse of water, bilharzia, the sun and malaria. I felt vulnerable with my large brood to watch out for and our baby in the womb to consider. At some point I realised that I didn’t have to pretend I was relaxed and happy about it, but I also could feel the fear and choose to do it anyway. I’m sure we’ve all been part of groups, gatherings, getaways or meetings where someone is missing and it just isn’t the same. I didn’t want to be the missing person. I also don’t think it is healthy or right to not do things due to fear.
It wasn’t all suddenly fine and perfect when we got there, I must admit. We felt as though we might melt in the blistering heat, we watched a crocodile interrupt some birds and shake one to death, the water swirled all around us and we were constantly watching out for the children, we spent most of the day applying sun cream or mosquito repellent and then reapplying after each dip in the pool that had been filled up from the lake – bilharzia might or might not have been in that pool (we threw in some salt for good measure) and we wondered where the sewerage from all the boats went and whether the pool filling would in any way ever contain the same defiled water others had just released from their boats. There were very real concerns, and yet all of life is concerning if we want to live that way. In the midst of all my hesitations, there were so many wonders and perfectly safe atmospheres to settle into. I was also together with some of my favourite people in all the world, and that counts for a lot.
To be contained on a boat in such conditions means that there is nothing to do but put one’s feet up. We relaxed into the pattern of compulsory tea time mid morning and mid afternoon as well as post meals. We read books, painted, fished, played games, stood under cold showers, napped whenever the urge came upon us, feasted and picked up conversations every time we remembered we hadn’t finished the last one we were having. We forgot about all the responsibilities of adulthood and every day life and simply focused on the views, ourselves and the people around us. We slept together on the top deck where the sky was our ceiling. A sky studded with jewels and shooting stars all reflecting in the still water around us. The bright morning star appeared near the crescent moon not so very long before the sun rose each morning. Each night I found myself restless from the heat and prayed (maybe over dramatically) in my fatigue, “Lord, please help me to get through the night.” I began to watch for that star that would signal the dawn. I began to count on it. To me it meant that I had done another day doing what I was afraid I might not be able to do, and it also meant that a new day was coming. It shone bright and vibrant until the sky turned from deep blue to off white with brush strokes of cerise and luminous pink on the horizon. That star hung around just enough to promise that a brighter light was coming. I smiled to myself as it sparkled in the east, thankful that it would no sooner disappear and a burning ball of fire would climb up over the edge of the horizon. The hope of a new day and new mercies and courage to live well wherever we find ourselves.
People who stay at home under their comforting wooden beams and tin roofs (like I might have) will never know that the entire sky is awake whilst we sleep and that our tiny, worried hearts can experience peace under the faithfulness of the One who put the moon, stars and sun into position. A moon to be a steady light, one special star to sparkle in the darkest hours and the sun itself to burst into full brightness so that all people can wake up to a brand new day and live in the light where every fear dims in comparison.
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