You can handle this.

When I lived in Gainesville during the first years of my marriage, I discovered the coolest thing: Fear doesn’t have to control me.

It all started with spiders.

My condo was beautiful, with a high ceiling, a very modern layout, and a stylish, clean appearance, even though it as very, very small. I fell in love with it right away, even though everything about it was in miniature, well most of it. But not the spiders.

During a time in my youth when I was being groomed by my “uncle” John, I said a prayer, asking God for help. When I opened my eyes, there was a spider on me. I was terrified, lost my marbles for a second, and began crying even harder than I had been crying. I was a mess. It was a Granddaddy Longlegs, the most harmless spider there is, but it shook me. So with that as a background to my story, spiders were already really scary for me.

Wolf spiders are as scary as they sound. They are as large as the palm of your hand, with eight sharp, fuzzy but not cute, legs. The body was large, too, and you could easily imagine the pupil of his eyes expanding as he looked at you. I was terrified every single time I saw one.

The spiders crawled out of the A/C grates along the walls and ceilings, and I was always terrified that one would climb onto us in our sleep. Neighbors reassured me that these helpful spiders didn’t hurt human. They told me that the spiders were the reason we didn’t have roaches, and while all of that made sense to my rational mind, I never seemed to be able to completely overcome that fear during our first few months in the house.

Next, there came some freaky ghostly stuff.

To summarize, my nervous system was already primed for fear because I grew up with a hefty portion of trauma. PTSD could be my professional post-nominal letters, like MD for doctors or JD for lawyers. I majored in PTSD during my childhood and teen years, and it only got scarier with spiders. But then came the paranormal stuff.

Now, you have the choice to believe what you will and interpret my story any way you like, but I am certain that these were all absolutely real events. You may not receive it as fact, but I’m going to tell you what I experienced. Okay?

Sometimes, the TV would turn on or off anytime, for no reason. Often, I would get a creepy feeling when I was walking past the walk-in closet in my baby daughter’s bedroom. I would pray and trust God, then freak out when another strange thing happened. I would experience strange feelings, sometimes cold, sometimes a feeling that someone was speaking near me, though not audibly. It was so uncomfortable.

Finally, my baby couldn’t breathe one night.

My baby girl was about 2 years old, either a few weeks before or after her birthday, and she was already tentatively diagnosed with asthma. One night, I noticed that her chest was rising and falling with a lot of effort, and her breathing sounded suffocated. I wanted to go to the hospital, but we had already been to the doctor, had given her the meds, and it was unlikely to change anything, so my husband said no.

My husband was asleep in the bedroom, and I was sitting by my daughter’s bed, obssessing over her breathing, and weeping over my husband’s “uncaring” attitude. Finally, I went to the living room to pray. As I sat on my couch, I could hear a memory of a Bible verse playing in my mind. “God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of ____, and of ____ and of a sound mind.” I couldn’t remember the other words clearly. I remembered one, but right now I can’t remember which one. So I repeated what I remembered, and paused when I realized it was talking about fear.

I had the strongest impression that I should wake my husband to pray for my daughter. So I went to the room and got him up, Waking up my hubby is like moving a mountain. He isn’t going to do it. But I was determined to put that message into practice — no matter what!

Very few times in my life have I been so certain that I heard the voice of God. Sometimes, I receive a message and I pass it on, and that’s easy for me. But receiving one for my life specifically about me — I don’t have as much certainty about that. I mean, I’m a biased listener. Maybe it’s just what I wanted to believe I heard, right? But this time, in this moment, I had no doubts. So, after some effort, berating, begging, and pulling, I got the man out of bed.

We walked into the room and just kind of stood there sleepily. I pulled him all the way over to her, insisted he bend over and touch her in her tiny, low bed, and he prayed, “Jesus, heal my baby.” With that, he walked out of the room. Within seconds, he was snoring again. I began crying, certain that such a half-hearted, faithless prayer wouldn’t work. But within 15 minutes, she was breathing normally.

My daughter has had breathing problems because of allergies, but never again has she had an asthma attack like that unless she had eaten an allergen. God did it, and that half-hearted prayer from a father’s heart was more than enough when coupled with a mama’s faith-filled obedience to God’s instructions.

When fear comes knocking…

Nowadays, when I have a huge, crippling bout of fear, I remember that moment. Why that moment? Because it was a turning point for me. PTSD cannot rule my life. I have too much to do. I will find a way through every terrifying moment. Maybe it won’t be quick. Perhaps it will be done badly. But I’ll do what I can, and it will succeed. In the end, fear doesn’t control us. We need to let the spirit of the prophet, in this case, our own spirit, be subject to the prophet — which means we’re under our own control. No one can move us. We have got this. Why? Because God has got us.

If you’re interested in more stories from my early life, try Blog Post.

Click on this link if you’re interested in checking out that Bible Verse. (It will open in another tab.

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