Fear.

I was having a fairly good day today.  I got up this morning, got my children ready for the day, welcomed my two daycare children into my home and headed out to start the day.  I dropped my oldest off at summer day camp and made a stop at Sam's with four kids and survived.  I remembered I needed a can of paint so we stopped off at Lowe's on the way back home.

While they mixed my paint, I pushed the cart loaded with two toddlers and called for the two other walkers to follow after me as I made my way to the home organization aisle.  The kids played a small game of tag on the aisle as I sized up the shelf liner like it was the most important decision I was ever going to make. All was completely normal and serene in that moment.

And then it happened.

The lights in the whole Lowe's store suddenly went out.  It was pitch black.  Black.  I could see absolutely nothing at all.  And I immediately panicked.  I can't explain it, but it instantly felt like I was in the middle of WWIII and no one was getting out alive.  I knew my two littles were safe in the cart, but I reached out to touch them all the same as I began calling the names of the older two.  They had been right there only seconds before, but they suddenly seemed miles away.  The youngest of the older two didn't answer the first three times I called his name, but finally did when I raised my voice and he heard my desperation.  I commanded them to grab on to the buggy and I began to push forward to the front of the building.  All I could think to do was make it to the doors and get out.  As I pushed forward, I felt my cart hit something in the aisle and then heard a large thud and splash.  A liquid rushed over my feet and by the smell, I could tell I had hit a display of household cleaner.  Still, I pushed on.

Finally, I reached the front of the store and the light that came through from the outside was like a lifeboat to me.  I could breathe again. I checked the kids.  Miraculously, no one had gotten sprayed even a little by the crash with the cleaner. Once everyone was cleared okay, I looked around and noticed that no one else was panicking.  Some were laughing.  Some were annoyed.  One salesperson even continued his pitch to a customer about some new and exciting product, but I was the only one whose heart was pounding ninety miles an hour.

Soon, the lights came back on and I went back to the paint counter to get my paint, payed and made tracks out of there.  Safe in my car, tears started to well up in my eyes and I just wanted to be at home in my bed.  Fear had gotten the best of me again.

I've always struggled with fear.  My parents went on a trip when I was young and while they were gone there was a volcano eruption somewhere.  In my little mind, I equated them being gone with the volcano erupting and I began to have panic attacks at seven.  Throughout my adolescence, I managed them pretty well.  They would only come on when I heard about or thought about the end of the world or about the expanse of the universe or eternity.  Those thoughts were too big for me to wrap my mind around so I would begin to panic until I could get my mind off of them.

Then, in the fall of 2001, I had hit my limit emotionally with some stress and physical ailments I was going through.  I began to show signs of depression and anxiety.  I was battling through it when I woke up one morning to turn on a safe HGTV show, only to find EVERY channel showing live feed of the World Trade Center burning.  Immediate panic went off like a siren in my brain.  I called my dad and he told me where I could find my mom.  I dressed quickly and drove with shaky hands to where she was and stayed by her side for two weeks.  Though I walked around like an upright person, in my mind, I was burrowed down in a bunker, waiting for the world around to cave in on us all.

These panic attacks continued on like this with random triggers for almost eight more years.  Somewhere in 2009, Jesus healed me of the attacks and I walked away from them free.  But, Fear is no dummy.  He knows he can't come back where Jesus has staked His claim, but he will do his best to poke at your weak spots.  And he does that to me frequently.  He tries to get me down in the exact place of my freedom.

So today, as I sat in the parking lot, Frozen playing in the background for the millionth time, and tears running down my face, I thought, "Stupid terrorists.  I'll never be able to trust that things are going to be okay in the face of danger because of them."  I cried a little more with that thought repeating in my head, until it dawned on me.  Every single time I panic in a scary situation, I give them power.  I give Fear power.  I shuck the Power that is at work within me and cling to lies.  I choose lies over Truth.  And Fear wins.  Not because terrorists flew planes into buildings, but because I don't stand on the Truth of the Word and tell Fear to shut up.

Those thoughts filling my mind made the tears instantly stop flowing and I felt alive again.  Stupid Fear.  He must not know Who he's dealing with.