Facing the Night

A year ago this time, I'd been through two recent miscarriages and was struggling to make sense of them. One night, my husband let the kids loose in the backyard after dark and we ended up joining them. Somehow, that time became a release for me and that night, I sat down and wrote about it in a notebook. I found the entry a few months ago and thought it would be a good post for October, a sort of reflection on how far I'd come in a year.

Not long after finding that entry, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. A year ago we were running through a backyard on a strangely warm October night. This Tuesday, I went with my husband to get his first blood transfusion.

I still think about the darkness I wrote about in that entry, how it somehow felt safe despite the blackness around us. Maybe it was knowing we were protected by the fence line, hearing the laughter of my children, or letting go of the need to see everything. I don't know for sure.

But I have found that in this new darkness, I've felt a similar comfort. A sense of safety, and even though I can't always see it with my eyes, a very real presence of love. So here is my entry, and I hope you can find the courage to face your unknowns with the knowledge that everything you need can be found through our Savior, who is a light in every dark place.


October, 2016

The sky is dark at seven, wrapping around us, quiet and embracing. October shouldn't be this warm. But I'll take it. Halloween costumes donned, the kids race into the backyard. We finally have a use for the glowing pink and green pumpkin flashlights I bought last year. No pretense. No crowds. Just a fence on three sides. Even the neighbors feel distant, faded. Here is our rectangle of grass, our space, made intimate by night.

I follow them in circles, running, running. My husband joins us. Pumpkin flashlights turn wizard's wand and light saber. A strange battle ensues. Harry Potter meets Darth Vader while my son cries stupefy and expelliarmus. For the three year old, giants and monsters are still enough to satisfy her need for adventure, especially if I'm the monster.

We play and things slip away. Unburdened, I laugh freely for the first time all day. It seems my body is stronger without the weight of day. I run longer than before. It's beautiful, uninhibited.

Something is here in the darkness, strength, and joy and love, even though I cannot see. The light of my children, the light I carry, gleams even brighter against this blackness. Why have I been so afraid of the unknown? It's everything I need.

I Am Brave

This summer I did something I've wanted to do for a long time. I held a writer's camp for young writers. One of the things we talked about was being brave enough to write. They told me the things that scare them about writing or sharing things they write. We talked about how to overcome some of those doubts. I found myself being pretty honest with them. I'm a published author, but yes, I still get scared. I still worry that my words will be judged, they won't be good enough, they won't say what I'm trying to say deep inside myself.

I'm still afraid of writing. But I published two books this year.

In fact I was sort of afraid of doing a young author camp. I'm so glad I did it anyway. I loved it more than I realized I would.

This year has given me several firsts. My first young author camp. And in a another fit of crazy bravery, I applied to present for the first time ever at a writer's conference. I was so scared I almost didn't do it.

But guess what? I was accepted! (Kanab Writers Conference, if you are curious.)

This last month has given me other firsts. Some that had nothing to do with writing, but with living. With having family that get sick, end up in the hospital, or maybe get cancer.

I've been so scared.

Life gives us things like that. Things that are scary deep down inside us. They leave us vulnerable, shaking, cold, and sometimes just too overwhelmed to do anything, even cry. But when we face those fears, when we step outside ourselves, step forward on trembling legs, and be honest with ourselves and others, we find things we need.

We say "I'm afraid. But I'm still doing this."

"I cried last night. But today I'm ready to face this again."

A sweet family member who I love very much recently told me, "It's no sin to feel angry. It's no sin to feel scared. You will be. That's okay."

It's okay to feel those things, to have fears, to stand in that inky blackness of despair and self doubt. Stand there for a moment. Feel it inside you, and acknowledge it.

And then tell yourself you're brave enough to keep going.

You are. And in a wonderful, incredible twist of life, you standing there in your doubt and fears for a moment changes you, deepens you, makes you, and who you are and how you see the world that much better. You've passed through the fire of this experience. You know. You understand. But don't stay there. Take the next step forward, do the thing you fear, face the thing you want but only dream of doing, realize you are strong even when you're scared. I never saw myself doing the things I'm doing now, but I am. I am braver than I realized. And so are you.