I Am Not Safe Anymore...

I sat with my friend the other day and we started discussing how anxiety has become an unwelcome addition to our lives since important men we loved have died over the last 2 years...because anxieties exist here...in case you didn't know.

Are you ready for an uncomfortable widow confession?

I do not think that I am safe. 

I have not felt safe in a long time.

Because I am no longer protected...I am the protector. But I don't think that I know enough to actually protect anyone...and this is the lie that eats at my heart when I am vulnerable.

It's not a perfect science. It doesn't make total sense. But it is still at the heart of my fears.

I am not the most important person to anyone anymore. And I think I naively thought that I would be able to adjust to that far more easily than I have. 

There is no one who can rush to rescue me without a second thought, no one who thinks of me first when something happens, no one who seeks me in a crowd first to ensure I'm there, no one who is looking out for me first. I am no one's first priority...as it should be...because we each have our first priorities (spouses or kids or family or ourselves)...I am just not the first one for someone else.  

Don't mistake my words...I don't need someone to come in and rescue me. I am not desperate and lonely. But I am alone...and I find that I am very ill-prepared to be the "man of the house". 

I don't know what to do if my tire blows on the side of the road. I don't know what to do when my confrontational neighbor yells at me yet another time. I don't know what to do when I can't find the help I need. I don't know what to do about the stupid wrench light that appeared in my car's dash two weeks ago.

I wasn't supposed to have to do any of this. I was supposed to have someone who kept me safe. 

My father gave me to a man 14 years ago and that man promised he would always keep me safe. And he did, to the very best of his abilities. But then he was killed...and I was left with the shattered safety that I had taken for granted for so many years. 

I was offered safety, but I declined it, choosing to remain my own independent woman. I was brave and courageous...and so very naive. 

Because I can't do this...I can't do so much of this...

I am simply not capable...or not brave enough. It's hard to say which, but both definitely exist in this space. 

And so...I must face these fears every day: 

Maybe today will be the day that everything falls apart and I find myself incapable of picking up and piecing it all back together?

Maybe today I will find myself stranded on the side of the road?

Maybe today I will break down in front of my neighbor and simply beg him to leave me so very much alone?

Maybe today I will make a mistake that cannot be fixed by sheer grit and determination?

Maybe today? Or maybe tomorrow?

This is the space of a lack of safety that I exist in...and y'all are so kind and generous by telling me how brave and courageous I am. But there are scary things that exist here...and bravery doesn't alway fix them.

Sometimes the natural consequences of a broken world overcome bravery...

But I guess the choice I have is to either dwell on it or to keep moving forward.

And I certainly have never known myself to stand still in the face of adversity, have I? 

It must be the Spirit of power that exists within me. 

The God that whispers "Courage, dear heart."

The Savior that calls me to try again, to try still, to try "even though"...

The one that reminds me that I may not be safe...but He is. 

I have the choice to believe that that's enough for me. 

And that...that is where the bravery comes in...

Knowing that even though I am not safe anymore...He still is...and I choose Him.