As a women’s community group, we have been going through What Women Fear by Angie Smith.
How very broad. It is everywhere and seems to come from everything. What we experience, what we don’t, what we have, what we lack, what we see, what we don’t see, the past, present, future…it seems to have a hand in a lot of our thought processes.
This has made me rather reflective. I was a big chicken as a child. I don’t fear the same things I did then but it was a big enough part of my life for it to bring up a lot of bold memories.
One thing in particular has been a constant my whole life regarding fear.
How my momma handled it.
The first verse I ever remember being required to memorize was 2 Timothy 1:7. Nothing about obeying your parents or about women being silent. Mom was cool like that. My Mom refused to coddle my fear and knew that she couldn’t do it for me. After all, I would freak when she prayed “for the Lord to send angels to encamp around about us”. My Mom is a praying one…and she knew she couldn’t do this for me. Instead, she equipped me. She handed me to the tools and left the light on. Baby steps folks.
I looked up on my bookshelf to see an old friend circa 1992.
I chuckle a little bit. Walk with me through my childhood.
This was a gift. Merry Christmas 1992.
The name…mine. The tattered pages…due to excessive use.
The highlighting was my handy work. An issue with fear much?
I stayed up at night with the light on praying these scriptures. I fell asleep holding these pages and their promises.
Momma knew where to direct me and I’m glad she did.