The Fear of Dying

I am a pretty fearful person. I don't necessarily like that about myself, but it's an indisputable fact. 

For instance, I'm terrified of heights and anything that involves heights. I can't explain it but my knees get weak and I have to fight the urge to curl into a fetal position.You might think that I'm talking about things like the Empire State Building (which I flatly refuse to enter, by the way), but I'm also prone to freak out in things like parking decks. For my fellow Roccers, here is a relevant example. I parked in the top level of the Damon deck the other day and almost had a heart attack waiting for the elevator. Why is it so OPEN up there? I made Addie stand against the wall the whole time. She thought I was nuts. And I definitely probably am, but fear is NOT rational.

Fear of heights also leads to fear of flying. And elevators. And roller coasters. I used to force myself to go on roller coasters until one day I realized that it was supposed to be fun and I just wasn't having all that much fun (I think it was the tears rolling down my face that clued me in).

And I pretty much don't swim in the ocean anymore because I'm so afraid of sharks. I know the statistics and I know they don't want to eat people (thank you, God!) but still, if you are in the ocean then you are swimming near sharks. And I don't care to enter into the food chain anywhere but on the top, thanks very much.

Other things that I'm afraid of include, but are not limited to: alligators, snakes, spiders, killer virus epidemics, aliens, crazy serial killers, and dentists.

So this is already a pretty extensive list and I haven't even gotten to my point yet.

Lately, I've been terrified of dying. I'm not sick, I'm not engaging in any risky behaviors (no skydiving...heights again!), but I am flat panicked about dying.

Part of that is because I live with a man that is literally dealing with death and grief every day on the orthopedic oncology unit. And some of those deaths and impending deaths seem very untimely and very unfair and it is hard to hear about and witness, even secondhand. The doctors that do this every day are heroes, honestly. To say nothing of the patients and their families. Heavens. Even thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.

It's difficult to hear these stories about doctors and patients grappling with mortality and not consider your loved ones and yourself in the same situation. Four years ago I think this would have been easier for me. But now, I am a mother. And the thought of leaving Addie and Graydon behind is frankly terrifying to me.  My mind quickly runs amok thinking of how they'd have a hole in their lives forever, how they'd never really get over that loss, how unfair it would be to lose a mother so young.

As if "fair" is a concept that has anything to do with life. As if I am promised, guaranteed, owed a certain number of years and days with my family. As if there isn't a single day that goes by without some family somewhere hurting over an untimely, "unfair" death. Just since I started working on this post I've had three loved ones lose other loved ones at ages 19, 54, and 32 respectively. All of the deaths were shockingly sudden and all are deeply grieved.

It scares me. I am afraid that I too have a blood clot forming all unknowing, ready to race to my lungs or heart and end my time here. Or that there is an aneurysm waiting to bloom and burst with deadly consequences somewhere in my brain. Or that while I am laughing and playing, my cells are quietly multiplying and forming into malignant masses.

In these moments of anxiety, I run to God. I pray with barely contained hysteria, a jet engine shriek aimed towards heaven "Please God, don't let me die yet. Please please please keep my family and myself safe."

The answer I'm looking for goes something like this "My dear child, of course you are not dying! You will be the first human since Methuselah to live almost a thousand years, along with everyone you know!" 

That doesn't happen.

Instead God asks me why I'm so scared of death. And I tell Him that I fear dying before I'm finished with my work here. That I fear that I am indispensable. That my family couldn't take another blow like that. That my children wouldn't be OK. That my husband wouldn't ever forgive Him. I remind Him that I love so many people and so many people love me that He really should consider making sure I live a super long time. You know, just in case He has other ideas.

And I'm just guessing here, but I'm thinking maybe God feels in these moments what I like to call "Sigh-Cot-Ic". This is how I feel when Addie asks me for the 500th time what I'm doing, or eating, or drinking, or can she please watch Dora again? And I sigh and remind her again of what I just said 10 seconds earlier (and 30 seconds before that, and 60 seconds before that, and so on..)"Cooking. Cheese. Tea. No." while trying not to lose my ever lovin' mind.

But He is patient and He reminds me of what I already know: which is that perfect love casts out all fear. And then He reminds me of why that is so. Because of course no one loves my loved ones like God does. And anything that happens to them will eventually be used by the Great Father for good in this world. As impossible as it seems, if I leave my family before I am ready, there will somehow be a blessing that will come from that trial. I won't see it, but I know this to be true.

There have been moments of crippling pain in my own life where I questioned God's plan, His love, and His promises. But I am seeing some of those bitter seasons in my life begin to bear fruit, and I promise to blog about that later . And it reminds me again that I just don't have the wisdom or perspective to appreciate the entire story when I'm in the throes of one chapter.

And frankly, when would I ever be ready to leave my family and friends (and chocolate)? For that matter, if my own mother was taken from me now, it would be just as profound and painful at 31 as it would have been at 21 or 11. Because you are never ready to surrender your loved ones. We are made to cherish life and we cling to it. That is our job while we're here.

And that is really what it comes down to isn't it? Cherishing life while we're here, I mean. God willing, I will leave this Earth old, loved, and content. But if not, I remember that when I leave, that my death is actually my gain. That while it would be a sore loss for my family, it would be a joy for me to see clearly what we can only perceive dimly through mortal eyes. I would not be angry, or bitter, or afraid. I would be running straight into the arms of love. I would be going home. And that is a thought that instantly banishes my fear and reminds that me that is good to be here now, living fully, loving deeply, and trusting fearlessly. And I am able to put aside anxiety and breathe easy again, feeling nothing but joy in the life I have and the lives I am privileged to share.

It is true. Perfect love does cast out all fear.

And I am pretty sure that Heaven is going to have some chocolate in it. I'm just sayin...

Heart Issues

So, my Dad had a heart attack on Sunday. It was a shock for everyone in our family, even those people like me that weren't that surprised. And lest that sound harsh, I just mean that I knew he was dealing with a ton of stress. And I had been concerned about his health for some time as a result.

But I was still shocked to get that call from my mother, because...he's Dad. And Dwight Shoe is nothing if not larger than life. He's a big guy (ex football player) with a big voice and a big personality. He's vital, he's funny, and he's almost always in perfect health. Trying to picture him in a hospital bed is nearly impossible. And yet it happened.

Fortunately, he's doing just fine. He was allowed to come home yesterday and there doesn't seem to be much permanent damage to his heart. He had a stent placed and they were able to completely remove the blockage that was causing the problems. Of course, he'll have medications to take, and it will take some time for him to fully recover his strength. But thankfully, he's going to be fine.

I haven't said much about Dad's situation to anyone. So if you didn't know, don't feel offended. You're not out of the inner circle of trust, I promise. There are basically two reasons why I've kept quiet.

The first is that our world is so interconnected. If I put something "out there", I just made the decision to "talk about it" for everyone involved. And so I wanted to wait, to make sure that all of our family and friends that were on a need-to-know basis actually did know before I indulged my own desire to share. And I have to give credit to my oh-so-intelligent husband for articulating this for me, because I was really fumbling for a way to explain it. And while I fumbled around clumsily, he summed it all up neatly.

And secondly, I didn't have much of a pressing need to share. Obviously, this was hugely important to me, but I didn't want to talk about it until I felt more ...settled. And I still don't feel all that settled. We know that my father is going to be all right. But it is still early days and I don't know how this changes my family in the long term, or if it does change us at all. So I'm watching and waiting and allowing time to do its thing. What that entails, I haven't a clue.

And praying, of course. Even before this happened to Dad, I felt a pressing need to pray for my family. Let me specify here that I'm talking about the family I was born into, not the one Tim and I are making, or the one that I inherited (happily!) when we got married. Those folks are all my family as well, but this particular section isn't talking about them specifically.

The word that constantly echoes in my head is "restoration". I felt very strongly that God desired...and certainly I desired....restoration for our family, both as individuals and as a unit. It's hard to articulate what that even means to me. I know that it doesn't mean a return to the way things used to be. I think it instead means a restoration of physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health to each person in my immediate family. And with that comes a restoration of the bonds that have been stretched to the limits in the last six years or so.

These issues aren't something that I discuss much on my blog, for obvious reasons. First, as I mentioned before, I don't feel comfortable making the decision to share for everyone. And more importantly, I think that every family experiences adversity at some point. Illness, financial difficulty, a vicious family feud, poor decisions by certain family members...whatever it may be, it's usually complicated and painful. And feelings run high and they fluctuate. Whatever I felt yesterday may or may not be the same tomorrow. But if I blog about yesterday, well that's the version that survives, regardless of whether it's fair or justified.

So, I don't blog much about family matters, in that sense. (Annnnnd I just got that theme song in my head, great!). But in this case, I think it's ok to say that I am praying for restoration, not just for my Dad, but for all of us. Because that's what my dad's heart attack really brought home to me. That a family is precious and our time together (at least here on Earth!) is not infinite. And that the most important thing is not figuring out who is responsible for what, or what this person could do differently, or how the situation could be better, but figuring out how to serve each person in your family with love and appreciation while you've got them close.

And speaking of love and appreciation, let me just say "out of the mouths of babes..."! Addie and I were saying her bedtime prayers last night, and I asked who she would like to pray for tonight. Usually she says something like "Kermy" (her lovie) or "Rocky" (our dog), but last night she said "Dillon" (my brother). I was surprised and touched and said "OK. Anyone else?" She said "Hebby. Sick!" And I had to fight back tears that she remembered that her "Heavy" wasn't feeling good, and that she wanted to pray for him. She really does still have her sweet moments, even in the midst of her crazy Terrible Twos!

So, in closing, I'd like to quote the Avett Brothers, North Carolina boys with a knack for hitting the nail on the head. This is from "Murder in the City", an older song of theirs that I love.

"Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing like the love that lets us share our name."