My palms are sweating.
My palms never sweat. But they are now.
Palms are sweating and my stomach is rolling and there’s an embarrassing tremor in my voice every time I open my mouth.
This seemed like a good idea a few days ago. Time to push yourself, Emily! Time to really reach.
I want to call the whole thing off, but my husband is standing there watching with a goofy grin. “I’m so proud of you,” he says and squeezes my shoulders.
No backing out now, so I give a little smile and nod.
“Sure, I’m so excited!”, I lie straight through my teeth.
My flight instructor, the one who is going to make me fly this tiny plane, is speaking clearly and calmly. Giving a play by play of the pre-flight procedures.
But there’s a ringing in my ears, and all of my terrified internal dialogue is drowning him out a bit.
We taxi to the runway, and he turns and says, “Now you’ll be taking off today.”
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I don’t consider myself a fearful person.
But I have spent a large portion of my life playing it safe.
An introvert at heart, a good girl, and someone who likes all of her ducks in a row.
If an opportunity came along to do something amazing, but scary, or just good enough, but safe, I would take the safe route most of the time.
I don’t consider myself a fearful person. I just like to make good decisions, I tell myself.
Fearful people lose sleep over the possibility of bad things happening to their loved ones. Fearful people panic during storms. Fearful people convince themselves (with the help of WebMD) that they’re dying every time they have a sniffle.
I was not a fearful person!
Except that I was.
Afraid of failure. Afraid of pushing too hard, wanting too much. Afraid that I wouldn’t measure up.
Sometimes it’s easier to give up before you even try.
And then, one day, the thing I didn’t want to fear, it happened.
A funny thing happened when I was confronted with the worst I could imagine.
I survived.
I had spent my whole life questioning whether, when faced with horrifying circumstances, I would be able to fight through it or fall apart.
The fear is beginning to slip away.
Because once the worst has happened, what is there to lose?
The last few months I have begun to peel myself away from the wall and dip my toe in the scary-deep-end.
I have said YES in the face of scary things. Big things and small things.
And I want you to know that you, yes YOU, are strong enough too. You are braver than you think you are.
As my Nish says, “You GOT THIS.”
And when you reach the end of yourself, in those scary places, there is someone else who has you. The love of the Father is a net thrown under you to soften the fall, dear ones.
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In December, I took my first flight lesson.
Two weeks ago I did this:
If you’re playing it safe too? Give up your death grip on the railing, and dive in. The water’s fine.
