A Snail's Pace

Usually when I see a snail I  walk the other way, all the while shuddering as I think, "People eat those things?"  Well now that I have a very curious puppy, walking away is out of the question.  Zeus loves all kinds of creatures, but he is especially fascinated with snails.  

Recently we have seen many snails on our morning walks.  Just today we saw a large snail sporting an intricately designed, brown shell.  I was shocked at how beautiful it was; it looked like it had been hand decorated by an exotic henna artist!

For a few moments I stood distracted as I admired its outward beauty and tried to keep Zeus from tormenting it to death.  But it wasn't long before I grew bored because I knew that wasn't the real snail.  What I wanted to see was the slimy, messy, unattractive but infinitely more interesting snail with little antennas and funny eyes.  I wanted to see what was inside that fancy shell.

As we stood quietly our patience was rewarded as he slowly began to emerge.  He looked both ways several times, twitched his antennas and finally exposed his vulnerable body to the elements AND to my dog.  Of course, Zeus was eager to play with his new "friend" and scared him back into his shell almost immediately.

I always thought that everything about snails was slow, but boy howdy when that little fella felt threatened by the giant, eager puppy blocking his path he retreated faster than the speed of sound!  I stood giggling for several more minutes as he repeatedly emerged at a typical snail's pace and retreated like a speeding bullet at the first sign of Zeus.  Each time he was scared back into his shell he became slower to emerge and quicker to retreat.    

Finally I made Zeus wait off to the side so the snail could breathe.  Once he felt safe enough to begin traveling again I watched as he made slow but steady progress toward the giant shrub that he was intent on destroying.  My landlord may have preferred that I let Zeus scare him away but I just couldn't do it, because in observing that snail, I observed myself. 

I am a lot like that snail.  It takes a very long time for me to poke my head out and see if it's safe.  It's an agonizing process and requires much patience from those who are curious about what's on the inside.  If I feel safe once I'm "on the outside" I make slow and steady progress toward my humble goals.  Sadly I often destroy good things in a continued effort to protect myself when I feel vulnerable, but unlike the snail I specialize in self-destruction!  Once someone or something scares me I retreat more quickly than that snail, speeding bullets have nothing on me.  I am quick to protect the vulnerable, slimy, mess hidden inside.  I paint, pad, clothe and generally use my shell to distract people from the real me, and I fall into that pattern over and over again.

To be fair, the shell is necessary at times.  It doesn't do much good for me to always play the martyr or to live as a victim.  Yet exposing the truth of myself is risky because I can easily get hurt, even by people I trust, or especially by people I trust.  But it doesn't change the fact that I want to live without fear when I'm outside of my shell; to do my work, love my friends and reach out to those in need.  I want to expose the real, slimy mess of my life to people who will help protect me from the harsh elements so I don't suffocate or shrivel and die inside of myself.  The only way I find the courage to try again is when I remember that God loves the real me more than the shell.  In exposing myself to others I'm really exploring who I am and letting His love and redemption transform me into the woman He always hoped I would be instead of a shell of her.

So now you know, I'm a slimy mess, slow and awkward.  Maybe by admitting that it will give those around me freedom to expose the truth about themselves, because as I've discovered, living in a shell is kind of like living in my own little prison.  It might be pretty but it's still a gilded cage.

 

Irrational Fears

Could you drive across these bridges?

I couldn't! Just looking at them causes me to hyperventilate. I'll ride in a gondola, suspended by a tiny, steel cable to the top of the tallest mountain in any given country, but put me on a tall bridge and I can barely control the panic I feel. I'll take a glass elevator to the top of a skyscraper without a thought, but steep bridges send me over the edge, or at least I'm afraid they will.... Yes, I have an irrational fear of tall bridges. It's probably post traumatic stress from so many years of riding with my grandmother in the mountains. She took those hairpin curves at speeds I'll barely drive on the highway. Something about looking over the edge and seeing only air makes me nearly pass out.

The fear is getting worse too as San Antonio groans its way into becoming a bustling metropolis. The former construction zones at the 281/410 and I10/410 interchanges have given way to huge overpasses with tall bridges. Every day I speed my way under the newly built concrete ramps on 281 lest they topple over with me underneath, then I thank God that I don't have to drive over them because that would be much worse.

My niece loves to tell the story of the time I took her and her siblings to the coast and we had to drive over the tall bridge connecting North Padre Island and Corpus Christi. In order for me to cope I instructed the 4 children to remain silent, then I turned off the radio and held on to the steering wheel for dear life. The kiddos thought it was funny and kept giggling as I fought back tears and tried to breathe normally. The laughter escalated each time I asked them to be quiet. Finally, at the point of near hysteria I barked at them to "shut up!" Kaitlyn laughs with delight each time she tells that story. Of course, I feel terrible for setting such a poor example, but then I was panicking and afraid that four of my favorite people (plus me) would meet their maker after plunging to their deaths into the Gulf of Mexico.

Just yesterday I felt the same panic as Serina and I were driving home from the mall. I would have taken San Pedro Ave to Woodlawn, all to avoid the bridges, but the highway is faster and I wasn't driving so I found myself covering my face in fear and peeking out to see how much longer it would be before I could breathe again.

That scenario has been repeated many times, with many different people and each time I feel like the biggest dork ever. I'm a logical, intelligent (usually) person. I KNOW that the bridges will carry even my weight, but they are so tall and narrow and people drive WAY too fast. All I can see is a car careening over the edge and crashing to the highway below and it terrifies me.

Since I am a woman of deep faith the question begs to be asked: Why am I afraid when I know my life is in the hands of my creator? I'm guessing it's because a car careening off of a bridge symbolizes how I feel about my life: OUT OF CONTROL. I'm technically driving but I'm not really in control. God is. I can steer and brake and try very hard to stay on my chosen path, but God will take me where he wants me to go, even scary, hurtful places. I know this and it scares me and infuriates me all at the same time. His approach is often wild and unpredictable, which is disconcerting. Not that he hasn't proven himself to me time and time again. His love created me. And when I was fallen and could not get up, he sacrificed his Son so we could reconcile. Obviously he has the best intentions toward me. But despite his goodness, I see through a glass darkly and being out of control isn't comfortable so I try to avoid it.

How do I reconcile God's love and goodness with my fear of really bad things happening? What if my car DOES careen off of a tall bridge and I meet my maker in a smoldering heap? Does that make God less good or does it simply mean that the fall interfered with the original plan? Do I REALLY believe that I could do a better job if I had ultimate control? Those are questions I'm still struggling to answer. Even though answers come slowly the process of questioning has deepened my faith in who God is, and knowing him despite his silence has brought unfathomable peace to my tired soul.

I guess it's time to let faith conquer my fear, which means I'm going to have to start driving over those tall bridges with my eyes wide open. I'm fairly certain I'll survive, although I may end up with a bleeding ulcer before it's all said and done. Just remember, if you happen upon a maroon Saturn driving about 20 mph, please don't tailgate me and whatever you do PLEASE don't honk as that will startle me. Just smile and remember that I'm learning to trust and will eventually speed up to 25 mph!