Faith and Fear

Faith and fear cannot occupy the same space.

I have been writing this post for so long that it could be a small book by now rather than a blog post. I have sat in front of my computer many times and written nothing more than a few words and re-written other words because I really struggled to pull this all together. Working on this reinforced my belief that while I love to write, I could never do it for a living on any kind of deadline because I definitely write at my own snail-slow pace most of the time. Besides that, I’m sure it’s obvious to anyone who reads this blog that I also would have the most difficult time complying with a word limit. J

I read that quote above early in the summer on a Facebook friend’s page. His name is John O’Leary. John is a remarkable man, one of the most inspirational people I have ever met. I met him through my boss--he is married to her niece. What is so remarkable about this man is that when he was a child, only 9 years old, he was playing with matches and gasoline, started a fire in his garage on a snowy Saturday morning when both of his parents were out, and was burned over nearly 100 percent of his body. The only thing that saved his life was the deep snow in his front yard that his older brother and sister rolled his body in, dousing the flames that covered him. The only part of his body that was not burned was one side of his face and neck. He nearly died and spent months in the hospital undergoing painful treatments and therapies. A saving grace for him was that an announcer for the St. Louis Cardinals, Red Schoendienst, happened to attend the same Catholic church in St. Louis that John’s family attended. He shared with the Cardinal team the tragic story of a little boy in his parish who had suffered severe burns to most of his body.  A very special and “famous” Cardinal announcer on KMOX, the radio station that once aired Cardinal games, heard about John O’Leary and began visiting him in the hospital. As John slowly began to recover, this radio announcer started bringing him baseballs autographed by Cardinal players, telling him he would only bring another once he’d written a thank you note to the previous signer.

That announcer who took a burned and scarred little boy into his heart and under his wing was Jack Buck. Anyone who is a Cardinal fan knows who Jack Buck is. Jack Buck is something of a legend in St. Louis. He was a legend to little John O’Leary, too. John O’Leary credits Jack Buck with saving his life and giving him a reason to go on. He was determined to keep writing those thank you notes even though he had no fingers left after being burned. Years went by, John slowly recovered, and Jack Buck kept in touch with him and became a good friend. When John graduated from college, Jack gave him the crystal baseball he received when he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. John married, had a son, and named him Jack. He now is the father of 3 boys and a newborn little girl.

John is an internationally known motivational speaker—a job which suits him perfectly. I’ve been so privileged to meet him on a number of occasions. He sometimes attends the Share golf tournament, and I have heard him speak at two different conferences. If John O’Leary can’t motivate a person and inspire them to look on the sunny side of life, I doubt anyone can. My coworkers and I were lucky enough to be on a flight home from DC with him, and we spent several hours with him in the airport and then chatted with him on the flight, and I can’t say enough what a truly lovely man he is.

One thing that will be forever etched in my memory is something he said the first time I heard him speak. At the end of a keynote address in which he talked about his burns and the struggles he still has all these years later, he said that he was so grateful for the life and opportunities he has had, and that if he was given the chance to do his life over, he wouldn’t change a thing. I remember how shocked I was when he said that…that he wouldn’t change such a horrific event….that even in the midst of such terror and pain that he has lived with, he has managed to be grateful, not only for the wonderful things that have come about in his life because of what happened to him, but that he is also grateful for what happened to him. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around that at the time, and five years later, I still think of it, and of him, in awe.

So back to the quote…Faith and fear cannot occupy the same space.

 I have been thinking about this and trying to write my thoughts about it for months now. To be honest, reading those 8 little words has been rather life changing for me. I have thought about the many times in my life when I have been fearful of something. Looking back on them, I can see that often, I let my fears take over and prevent me from doing something I may have really wanted to do yet was too afraid to. In those cases, faith and fear really could not occupy the same space and fear won. I have also thought back to times when I did take a leap of faith, yet the fears were still there, and I never really quite let go of them enough to truly shine, enjoy, or appreciate something. It was less obvious, but faith and fear still could not occupy the same space. While there have been numerous times I have tried my hardest to overcome a  fear, I look back and wonder if the fears that I had directed how I handled situations that may have had a completely different outcome if I had banished the fear and relied solely on faith. I’m having a difficult time putting these thoughts into words still, but I have wondered if my fears made me act in such a way that made it more likely that those fears would indeed become reality…if I created a self-fulfilling prophecy so to speak.

One situation that comes to mind is many years ago when Tony and I were newly married and living in Omaha, I was the assistant manager for a women’s clothing store. I loved the job, and I loved my boss. A couple of years after we began working together, she was given a promotion within the company and moved away to open a new store. I was offered a promotion and given the job managing the store I worked in. At first, I turned it down because I didn’t think I was ready. However, I let my boss and our district manager talk me into accepting it. They both assured me that I was more than ready, that I would do a fabulous job running the store. They both told me that if I wasn’t ready, they would never have offered it to me, and that I was the unanimous choice among those who decided these things, right up to the owner of the company. Wow, I was speechless. I didn’t have much faith in myself those days. Hell, I still don’t most of the time, but I was even worse back then!

So, I accepted the job. But that nagging fear didn’t go away. A few days before my boss’s scheduled departure and my taking over the store, we were working together on some details about managing the store, and I had a bit of a meltdown. Actually, a bit of a meltdown is probably a huge understatement. I ended up a sobbing mess of tears, and I will never forget her telling me that if I didn’t get my head together, I would never be a successful manager, that if I didn’t believe in myself, no one else would either. That no one would take me seriously as a manager if I didn’t at least pretend as if I was the best damn manager out there. I tried. I really and truly did. I worked my butt off. The store looked amazing all the time, and I started to think I would really like to go into visual merchandising as I really seemed to have a talent for it. I remember the owner’s first visit after I had become manager…he raved about how fabulous the store looked, and how creative and beautiful the front window displays were. And for the most part, the store continued performing well over the next few months. But that fear that I wasn’t good enough just wouldn’t go away. The store had grown and thrived under the previous manager. Before she took over, it had been one of the lowest performing stores out of the nearly 80 stores across the country, ready to be closed, and by the time she left, it was one of the top performing stores. I had some mighty big shoes to fill, and I did not believe in my heart that I was up to the task. And in the end, I wasn’t, and I ended up leaving that job nearly 2 years after taking it, a stressed out wreck of a person on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

I always have looked at that job of mine as one of my biggest failures. The blow my self esteem took back then was huge. But, after reading that quote, my eyes were opened…what  if my own fears contributed to the  way I did my job and pretty much ensured that I was going to fail? What if instead of assuming that I could never fill my boss’s shoes, I had had enough faith in myself to put on my own shoes and not worry about filling hers? Of course, I will never know the answer to this, and it doesn’t even matter any longer, but thinking about that situation led me to think about other situations, and I definitely have discovered a pattern.

I have thought of friendships I have had over the years, that I never really had much faith in them being lasting friendships…almost like I knew they wouldn’t be, so why bother putting myself out there too much? Did I act in a way that ensured they wouldn’t be? Did I not let myself really become close to people because of my fears? Again, I’m not going to go into details here, but I now realize that more than likely, I have. Reading that quote was a real eye opener to me, and I definitely can see things I have done and ways I have reacted that again, make it more likely that my fears will come to be.

I have thought of issues within my marriage and how I have acted certain ways based on my fears. I’m not going to go into details, but about 18 months ago, something happened that knocked the wind from my sails, and things have only gone downhill from there. I can’t help but wonder if the fears I have had these past months have made me act in ways that I may not have acted otherwise, which has only made it more likely that my biggest fear will come true.

It’s been a vicious circle of wondering.

This subject began to fascinate me to the point that I Googled “having faith in the face of fear.” I came upon an article that for the most part, reinforced my thoughts and reinforced John O’Leary’s quote. The author of that article wrote:  fear is all about our thoughts—where we focus them. If we think about the possibility of danger or of negative outcomes or of unwanted futures we make ourselves afraid. If we focus on our faith, or on the fact that we are okay—safe and sound—in this moment, we do not make ourselves afraid. Instead, we give ourselves courage to take a step forward on the bridge called life. He also wrote that that fear stops you from living your life fully and creating the life you desire. Fear prevents you from achieving your highest potential and immobilizes you on the path to your dreams.

How true that is. I have tried to not look backwards and beat myself up for the many times that I let fear rather than faith rule my life…not think about the times when I have focused  my thoughts on my fears, but wow, it is hard to not do that. I have tried not to think about all of the times when fear stopped me from having the courage to live life the way I wanted to. I have only written about a few examples here, when I could write about many, many more. Like I said, I could probably write a book. At the same time, while I can’t help but looking back on those situations, I don’t WANT to think about them and depress the hell out of myself.

I put this blog post aside months ago, and just came across it on Saturday when I was cleaning out and going through documents on my computer, and I was glad that I had never posted it. Like I mentioned already, I struggled with it every time I tried to write something. But finding it yesterday was just what I needed. Once again, I am facing something that I have worried myself sick over, and I know that I have been acting in ways completely out of character for me, which has made me feel even worse. Again, that vicious circle has taken over, spinning me out of control at times. As I read these words I have anguished over the past many months, it brought to mind another quote:  Worrying doesn’t empty tomorrow of its troubles, it only robs today of its joy.

So, Saturday morning, as I downed too many cups of coffee, I gave myself a mental kick in the butt, and told myself rather emphatically that I am not going to change whatever may be happening by worrying about it, so why spend so much effort and brain power on it? I’m not quite to the having faith it will all work out part, but I am trying. Even if I never get there, at least I can say for now, I’m not fearing doomsday.

I have also been thinking a great deal about someone I learned about recently who for a year has been battling a rare cancer that is inoperable. She is someone I briefly met in college, and I doubt she would even remember me at all. I found her blog, and the first night, I spent hours reading about the past year of her life and all of her challenges and struggles. One thing she wrote sticks with me now. One day, she shared that she doesn’t fear what is ahead for her because she has faith that no matter what happens, God is with her, and that faith is enough to sustain her and keep her going through whatever she must go through and banish her fears. I really wish I had that faith so strong. It is one thing I have always been envious of in people who do  have it as it something I have wrestled with for many years.

To wrap this up….one last thing the author I mentioned above wrote is that when we have faith, we simply don’t focus on the thoughts that make us afraid. It sounds simple, eh? Simple in word, but not in practice. Oh, if only things were as simple as they seem when we read them! However, while I can’t say I have complete faith that things are going to work out…that my life is going to stay on an even course, at least I can feel as if by banishing the fear, I am leaving room for faith to fill the empty space at some point, and I will pray that it does.

You May be Right...I May be Crazy

I can’t believe that I am going to write what I am going to write next.

Give me a drumroll please, and then hold onto your hat!


I am quickly heading toward 50 and I am looking forward to it.

No, you don’t need to go clean your glasses. I really am looking forward to turning 50 in 2 years.

And no, I haven’t lost my mind. Well, I’m sure there are some folks who might disagree, but for other reasons.

Let me explain. To be honest, I have been dreading turning 50 for a few years now. I think Mr. McDread began twining his creepy fingers into my brain around the time I turned 45 and I remembered how much I had hated turning 40. I was downright depressed about it. So depressed in fact that my friend who planned a surprise party for me told me after the party that she had nearly cancelled it because she thought that I would hate it, and hate her for planning such a thing. I don’t know why I hated it so much at the time, but I have done a lot of pondering about that for the past couple of weeks.

I have never been very sure of myself or of my capabilities and talents. I look back on my teen years with complete and utter horror and wouldn’t take money to relive them. College was better. My 20s were even better, yet I was still so unsure of myself in so many ways. I was trying to figure out how to be a good wife while trying to make my way in the working world. I was struggling to become a mom. I had 4 miscarriages in my 20’s. I had moved 10 hours away from my family and was trying to fit into Tony’s family and make them my own. So while they were good years, they were still filled with so much insecurity.

The best decade of my life so far was hands down my 30s. When I was in my 30s, I was a stay at home mom raising the little beings who called me mom and loving every minute of it. Well, maybe not every single minute, especially those that involved trips to the ER and weeks being cooped up in the house in the winter with sick kids. I didn’t really love potty training either. But I loved everything else. I loved snuggling up on the couch with my children on my lap and reading to them. I loved crawling around on the floor playing cars and Barbies and doing floor puzzles. I loved it when Justin would crawl into bed and curl his sweet little boy self next to me every morning to watch Scooby Doo. I loved coloring in coloring books and teaching them to write their names and playing game after game of Candyland and going to the park and the zoo and for walks around the neighborhood pushing a stroller. I loved tucking them in at night and saying “sweet dreams” as they wrapped their arms around my neck and said “I love you mommy!” I loved it all. I don’t remember ever wishing away their childhood. I was never one to say “God, I can’t wait until my kids are grown!” I was never a mom who wanted to work in order to have “adult interaction.” I truly enjoyed being a stay at home mom and was so thankful every day that I was able to be one. In my 30’s, I think I was the most content I have ever been. We didn’t have many financial worries back then. Life was oh so sweet and good. Not just good. Very good.

Then, I turned 40. My kids were older. The year I turned 40, I started working at Share. Saying I had a hard time adjusting to being a working mom is an understatement. Even though I was only working part time, after being a stay at home mom for 13 years, it was a challenging adjustment. Those first few years, I spent so much time feeling like Gumby, stretched in too many different directions. On the one hand, I loved my job, and on the other, I felt as if I wasn’t a good enough mother any more. There were times when playing with the kids and taking them on outings felt more of a burden than the fun it once had been. Where once I would stop whatever I was doing and play or read if one of the kids asked, I now found myself saying way too often, “I can’t, I need to get the laundry/vacuuming/dusting/etc done.” And I feel so guilty about that. My house isn’t as neat and tidy and clean as I like it to be, and projects fall by the wayside. For the first time in my life, I started buying instant mashed potatoes and canned spaghetti sauce. I know it sounds silly, but for a long time, it really bothered me. It still does at times.

I know I have accomplished a great deal while I’ve been in my 40’s. I’ve done so many different things I never would have imagined I would (or could) do. Some of the people I have met through my job have encouraged, supported and cared about me in ways that no one ever has before. Because of them, I have more confidence in myself than I ever have, yet in other ways, I feel like I did as the insecure teenager I was in high school.

Which leads me to the real point of this post…why I am looking forward to turning 50 and the person who inspired me to turn my thinking around.

A couple of weeks ago, I was having a spectacularly bad day. The reasons why don’t matter, but there were many. I was at work, struggling to get through the day without having a meltdown. I was working downstairs rather than in my own office because I was doing a bunch of different things for my boss, and rather than continually running up and down the steps, I just took my laptop down there to work. It is getting close to Angel Ball time, so now and then, gals from the committee stop in. I love those days…they were some of the first people I met through Share back when I was still a volunteer, and it is always a bright spot in our day when they drop by. In the beginning, I was very intimidated by them; I felt as if they were way out of my league…pretty much all of them are doctor’s wives, they dress to the 9’s, have large beautiful homes, throw fabulous parties, sent their children to the top private schools in St. Louis…you get the picture. However, I quickly learned that they are just like anyone else, they just have more money. None of them have ever treated me as “beneath” them as I imagined they would when I first met them.

Anyway, on this particular day, Francois stopped in. Francois is French, is jus the sweetest person and we all love her. And she loves us and Share just as much. She is a cute and spunky, and I have often hoped that I am that cute and full of life as I get older.

I don’t think she was expecting to have the conversation we had on that day. She sat down at the table with Cathi and I and innocently asked me how I was, how are the kids, etc. Like I already said, it was a bad bad bad day. I don’t even remember exactly how I answered that question, but Cathi ended up stepping in and told her I was having some “challenges” in my life. What an understatement that was! I did end up telling Francois that it was just a rough time, I was having a hard time dealing with some hard issues with my kids while also trying to deal with my own issues…which led to a conversation about menopausal/hormonal issues, how much it sucks, and how much I am so ready to be done with this phase of my life, but that I dread heading into my 50’s. She really seemed to listen, and to care, and then, she told me how awesome her life has been in her 50’s. Better than ever, she said. She said that in her 50’s, she has been more settled, more sure of herself, and her life has been great. She doesn’t care what people think of her anymore, and she is truly happy and content for maybe the first time in her life.

While lately, I have been feeling as my life is going downhill fast, hearing her say that not only made my day, but it made me feel hopeful for the first time in a long time that things will get better. It made me think that maybe the best years of my life aren’t behind me as I have often been thinking, but rather ahead of me. Francois really inspired me that day…inspired me to not only do some reflecting on my life so far, but she also has inspired me to look forward to the next phase. I’ve talked to her several times since then, and each time I do, the first thing she asks is, “How are you? Are things better?” Her care and concern come through loud and clear and means so much to me. I have thought so often over the past couple of weeks how I wish I had many people like her in my life.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a birthday party for my boss who recently turned 60. Francois was there, and I had to get a picture with her.




Can you believe this woman is almost 60? I can only dream of being that adorable when I am almost 60!

It used to bother me when people said I was “cute.” I always thought I would rather be described with words such as “lovely,” or “elegant,” or “beautiful.” I always thought of “cute” as the way you would describe a little kid or a puppy or a sweater, not an adult woman. But, now that I am heading towards 50, I honestly think that there is no better compliment someone could say to me than “you are so cute!”  On that same note, couple of weeks ago, one of my coworkers told me I’d changed a lot in the past couple of years, that she never realized how “feisty” I can be. I can think of nothing I’d rather be than a “feisty, cute” 50 year old. And I thank Francois for turning my thinking around.