Running in the Night

All power had been shut off and now only a few stars lit the sky. With the tall buildings blocking that light, I ran in complete darkness. The marching of the militia had become louder. I could hear their boots shuffle quickly against the gravel and rifles were being fired nearby. They had to be just around the corner so I darted into the building next to me. I climbed the steps and at the top to the right, I saw a family with small children and a dog. They were trying to hide. We looked at each other but nothing was said by any of us. I could see the fear in their eyes...it was the same fear I felt. It hurt my heart that they must live, and possibly die, this way. I turned around though and continued to run to another part of the building. Seeing no real place to hide, I peeked outside from another door. The marching seemed distant so I was safe for now. I had to get home.

Fatigue swept over me but I knew the militia was never far away. There were too many of them and they'd taken over the city. I had to keep running. I turned into an alley, staying close to the buildings hoping their shadows would hide me. I heard steps again. I dropped into what seemed like a deep window well, not knowing if I'd be able to climb back out in the dark of  night. Falling as I hit the bottom, I feared I'd made too much noise and alerted others to where I was. Whoever was walking above passed though so again, I was OK for the moment. The well I was in was deeper than I'd expected, but there seemed to be holes where I could place my feet and enough to hang onto as I made my way back up the wall. Once at the top I had to get my bearings again. My body wanted to give out but I knew I had to keep going. It wasn't just about me.

As I continued my trek, it remained quiet except for gun fire in the background and an occasional blast that would light up the sky helping me to find my way back. I could see the building now. My right leg limped as I struggled down that last block, but finally I was safe. I opened the door and stepped into an area of the house that had previously served as a kitchen to everyone. My room was in the latter part of the complex. Before I had time to make my way back to it I heard shuffling in a nearby room. Someone was near. I had to hide. I darted behind a cabinet but knew I wasn't well hid. There wasn't time to find another spot though. I couldn't see anything, but heard the squeak of the kitchen door opening wider. My eyes closed in defeat. It was over. I had been found. I opened my eyes to accept my fate, only to look down and see my little Yorkie, Peanut, at my feet. I cried as I held her. I'd somehow found my way back to her and she was OK.

And then I woke up....

So much for sleep. When I do manage to get into a deep one, nightmares go with me. Though fear was prevalent in this dream, at least it had a happy ending. Now I'll try sleeping again and hope my dreams will be about ice cream and chocolate cake...or it will be as usual, and I won't dream at all. No dreams are better than bad dreams. :-)

Peggy

Writing and Fear

It's been a long while since I've written in the blog. I went through some down time, meaning I felt down for different reasons. I also was afraid to write...afraid I'd be too depressing. Afraid no one would really want to hear what I had to say. Afraid my writing wouldn't be good enough. I allowed fear to control me. With God's nudging and my husband, Marty's, encouragement though I've decided, at least for the moment, to get past my fear and write in the blog again.

It's odd how God will use small things to place His thoughts on our heart. I was taking items from the family room to their rightful place when I saw a spiral notebook I'd set aside months ago to use for journaling. I'd not written one word in it. I thought then about my writing, or lack thereof, as I brought the tablet to my office. As I do almost daily, I felt on my heart how I wanted to write again. I never really do anything about it though. Part of me knows that sharing what's on my heart will help me get through life and possibly help others, and yet a bigger part of me seems to stay afraid of what others will think of my writing and thoughts. I live too much in fear when it comes to sharing myself. That's probably why I have so few close friends. Even with recognizing that, I shoved the notebook into the back of my desk and walked away. When I did that, I believe I again ignored God's nudge for me to write.

After I settled back into my recliner in the family room, Marty turned the volume down on the TV and turned to me. He proceeded to say that while I was doing other things, he'd re-read what I'd previously wrote in my blog. He said that my writing and thoughts had again blessed him, adding that the way I share my heart is a gift and that God could use what I write to bless others. Marty asked that I give blogging another chance. I shared with him how God had spoke to me also and that I would try to write in the blog again tomorrow. We went back to focusing on the TV then, but I didn't sit in my chair long before I felt God tell me not to procrastinate, that tonight was a good time write. This time I listened to Him, and here I am...writing.

Because of who I am in God, there is no reason to be afraid for others to see me, whether that be in my weakness or strength. The Lord loves me, and each one of us, just as we are and He doesn't want any of us to live in fear.  I pray that God will continue to help me face this fear.

Thank you, Lord, for your consistency in my life. Thank you too for using Marty to help me do what you've been nudging me to do all along. Continue to help me, and any others who struggle with some kind of fear to get past the hold it has on them. Help us look to you for our courage and strength. Amen.

I already feel lighter from sharing this, and it feels good to write again.

Peggy :-)

Writing

Blogging is new to me so I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I'm going to try and share my thoughts.

My best bud, Karen, who helped me setup this page is planning to tell friends that my blog is out there for viewing. I'm not sure who would want to read what I have to write, but by Karen being my personal advertising campaign, it forces me to actually blog something. I guess I've been rattling on too much about how I want to write again, so she's trying to help me accomplish that goal...maybe even make me accountable to my so-called desires; though what's wrong with whining about something you want to do without ever really applying yourself to doing it??? I mean I have a number of excuses I can come up with for not putting my fingers on a keyboard or picking up a pen. Fibromyalgia is a big one. I deal with pain a lot, I'm always tired, and my head waffles in and out of this dense fog that affects my focus and memory, among other things. It's appropriately named fibro fog. When those excuses aren't enough, I can come up with more, like being busy. There's all kinds of things that fill up my day...eating, checking my email, washing dishes, letting the dogs out, retrieving the postal mail, and looking out the window to see if weather. com has predicted the correct weather for my area. The list is really endless!

OK...as you probably already know, most of those excuses are just excuses and not great reasons for putting off the writing that is in my heart to do. The real truth is, I have trouble sharing myself with others or even putting my thoughts onto a page that may not even be read. I'm an introvert at heart and grew up with trust issues, and then when my Mom died a few years ago, I dug myself into a deeper hole...it's how I survived. This last year, I've been trying to force myself out of my safety zone but it's still a scary place for me; and more often than not, I want to run back into my hole and hide. It's even scarier to put my inner self onto a written page. Writing this blog is a way to step outside myself; or as my husband, Marty, described it today, I'm stepping into a snowy pit of lions and facing my fear...the fear of being hurt, the fear of failure, the fear of facing the difficult losses in my life that seem too hard to bear, the fear of me not being enough in some way...the fear of fear.

So bear with me as I write, or don't write. It's a process that God, my husband, my family, and good friends like Karen are helping me through.