I have friends who say that fear is nothing more than False Evidence Appearing Real. If that is the case, then I am wasting a lot of my life on faulty thinking.
That little tyrant, Fear, struck me again today. Our family sat on the sidelines of Boy 2’s soccer game and he was on. I mean he was rockin’. I was so proud. As I watch his lightning speed, I looked at his face and noticed how much he looked like my husband when he had played soccer. Same facial expression. Same form. Same drive. It was uncanny. It took me back to my husband’s glory days in college when he was the star player in his cute uniform (although it’s so not cool that I just called it “cute”). I knew he knew I was there, but he was always focused on the game and I felt so proud to be dating him.
Flash forward to today. My husband has multiple sclerosis. His major athletic days are behind him. He has a hard time even walking some days. Immediately, I went to that place (where I find it hard to even type this out for fear that it might come true just by seeing the words) where I wonder if Son #2 will get MS, too. If he is like his dad in such a physical way on the soccer field, is he going to follow in the other physical areas, too (read: MS).
Then my brain does this whole whirly, swirly thing that if I could slow it down and record it might be something like this: Ohmygosh, he’s going to get MS and live with this emotional and physical pain and maybe he won’t find a woman who is willing to live with it and he will end up all alone except for us of course and his brothers if they all keep in touch because boys aren’t that great at keeping in touch like girls are and what if he gets it when he’s still young and can’t even play soccer as long as his dad did or do the things he wants to do whatever they may be like building a house playing football riding his bike creating his cool art to share with the world traveling to Egypt or Rome or the other places he has mentioned….
Wake up! Snap out of it. That’s all false evidence appearing real, I say to myself. And I don’t think about it again until the next soccer game when I see him look like his dad again, when, of course, fear becomes stronger than all the other voices in my head. When again, I have to write in my blog to release the negative energy. And when, hopefully, I remember the most important way to counteract this faulty thinking: prayer. I can run this little tyrant right out of my head when I pray that God will restore my faith in his goodness, no matter what. And when I ask him to help me believe that he is in control of today, tomorrow… and my Son’s future.