Thanksgiving has come and gone, but the overstuffed feeling,
the turkey coma, and the air of gratitude are lingering evidence of the holiday
season now in full swing. I love this time of year. When the warmth and wonder
of tradition and family grab on for a month-long ride. But this thanksgiving something
else hopped on. Something other than leftovers and a few, unfortunate, extra
pounds. Something like… fear.
Holidays for the Simpson’s are always a marathon of
activities and family time. We try to hit each side of the family, which
usually equates to at least three celebrations of each holiday and severely
nap-deprived toddlers. Our Thanksgiving celebration with my mother-in-laws side
of the family was particularly exciting this year.
My mother-in-law, Janet, my sweet teenage niece, Kaylee, and
I ended up wandering a trail in the woods with my little young-ins and two of
my nephews, Austin and Eli, who are five and nine. Problem was that my little
guys couldn’t quite keep up and so Kaylee had the big boys with her farther
ahead. Of, course, boys will be boys and Austin and Eli got a little too
curious—a little too big for their britches and slipped out of sight. Kaylee
ran back to tell us that she’d lost them and so we split up, started on a
scavenger hunt of sorts for the runaways.
Having long ago been the path for an old railroad, the trail
was clear and wide, several paths branched off to beautiful open meadows that
made me feel like I was traipsing through the storyworld of Bambi with my two
wild fawns. For a few moments it all felt very innocent. Surely if we hustled
ahead, covered a little more ground, we would see the boys just around a bend.
Wandering further, I started to realize with each step just how
far we had ventured from home. How difficult it was to wrangle my own curious
little brood alone, on unfamiliar terrain.
As the sounds of Kaylee and Janet’s calls disappeared on the
wind, the moment sobered, matured. Panic set in, and amplified even more when
the Bambi parallel became much too real and dangerous.
Gunshots.
Fear so tangible and cold snaked its fingers around my
spine. Someone was hunting—and two boys had run off through the maze of trees.
It’s moments like these when fear can run amok in your
system, blot out your faith, your senses—blind you to everything, and swallow
you whole.
How often do we feel like we are wandering through the
woods? Our path unsure, the signs to look for unclear. Each trail appears the
same and yet leads to a very different place. Which one is the right one? What
might happen if we go the wrong way?
I tend to write a lot about fear, not only because I write
suspense and they are inevitably intertwined, but because life is scary.
Moments like these crop up when you least expect them, and even if we are
firmly rooted in the truth, our faith can feel frail—wobbly when those
mountainous doubts press down hard.
This little adventure had a happy ending. I ended up
discovering the wandering troublemakers, squeezed the frightened breaths right
out of them, and then gave them a firm talkin’ to.
Of course, then we had to find a way to track down the other
two members of the search and rescue team, and finally make the long, exhausted trek back
to Aunt Fran’s.
Life is full of uncertainties, sometimes even roadblocks. There may night always be a sign warning the dangerous curve ahead. But just remember, though the path may not be clear, there is a guide you can
trust who knows the way.
When was the last time fear knocked you on your keester? And
what do you do to navigate though all those doubts?
Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! So thankful for you!
