Acquired Fears

When I was a child, I spent my summers running barefooted around my cul-de-sac. I picked the legs off of grasshoppers and lowered myself to eye level with spiders, attempting to feed them, usually by throwing the legless grasshoppers into their webs. I crawled and laid on the floor of my garage and those of my neighbors. I ate before washing my hands. I drank out of the water hose. And, I just didn't worry.

These days, I cringe at the sight of nearly any bug and find a way to alter my path to avoid coming within its jumping distance. I don't even like sticking my hand under my bed for fear of what might be under it (I live in the country, folks. Brown recluse spiders and snakes are a realistic threat). It is always with scrutiny that I eat at a new restaurant or partake in a homemade treat made by someone I don't know, or trust. I drink only bottled water, although I'm working on that one. Why can't the ease of living we experience as a child be transferred to adulthood? I wish somedays I could unlearn all the facts that have taught me to worry and fear, but I can't. Truthfully, that knowledge is valuable, although cumbersome at times.

I came across a very large, terrifying grass spider the other day. Normally, I avoid even the tiniest of arachnids and wait for someone braver (like my 16-year-old sister) to come along and kill them for me. But at this particular time, I was interviewing a prospective employee and needed to appear as adult-like as possible. So, I gathered my wits, and from across the room, threw a magazine on top of the creature. I then cautiously approached the area and stomped the magazine a dozen times, and left the magazine in place, its weight guaranteeing my safety against any zombie-like characteristics this spider might posess. (Have you seen Arachnaphobia?!) Looking back, I see how this display most definitely secured my repuatation as a competent and professional person for the woman I was interviewing. What's more, I believe the spider may have already been dead, but I killed it more, because it was horrifying to look at. . . even in death.

After the woman left, I took a deep breath and lifted the magazine, and after two full minutes and ten tries, was able to scoop the remnants onto a sheet of paper and deposit it all in the trash.

Ten, twelve. . .wait. . . seventeen to nineteen years ago (HOLY COW!!!) I would have stomped the spider with my shoe, would have had great fun doing it, and then I would have gone about my summer day making mud pies. That's another thing - I hate being dirty now, and as a kid, I came home coated in dirt.

I taught a lesson last week that emphasized the importance of being child like when approaching the Kingdom of God. Such useful advice, but hard to apply, as most good advice usually is. I didn't worry as a child, and now I seem to worry about everything. I am making a conscience effort to stop, to approach life in general with a more child-like, not childish, attitude and outlook. God is going to take care of it all, but as an adult human it is often so hard to step aside and let Him. So, today's moral may be - the more difficult the advice is to follow, the more important it is that you do.