"C Hill," Canoes, and Overcoming Fear

 During family vacation a week and a half ago, I was taken aback at how many fears hit me freshly--and how many I had to overcome. 

Someone mentioned about a young person we know who does not like cows, and in my heart I was looking down on that person--until I asked myself, "So what don't I like?" 

I had to get my nose back in place because, although I like cows, I am afraid of them! 

I am also afraid of water--at least as far as going somewhere on top of it such as in rivers or lakes or oceans. I tried to learn to swim over and over in my younger years, but I just never got the hang of it. My mom, of course, had been raised in public schools and taken swimming lessons in YWCA surroundings, (even taken training to be life guard) and had learned to swim well. She tried to teach us children the few times our parents took us to some river somewhere (usually cold and rocky). 

I found myself worried to death about some of the children deciding to canoe down the Gunnison River or the North Fork Saturday. Three young men our family knew have drowned in recent years--all excellent swimmers. 

I was glad the young people all wore life vests--especially Rose, who, despite being 4 1/2 months or more along in her second pregnancy wanted to row along. 

It was a beautiful day, and the river looked placid enough and not very deep, so I threw my fears to the winds--and my children into the hands of God, once again. All went well, except for the one rocky spot where five children had shot through the white water but Rose ended up having her canoe tip and she was in the water!

(Tim caught the whole thing on video, stopping at just the most exciting part because he was putting his phone down to go help his sister!) 

 

I am also afraid of heights--and narrow, rocky roads that climb steep, high hills with so many rocks and pebbles that look like they are about to slide under our wheels. For sunset Saturday night, Tim wanted to take us up "C Hill," as it is called there behind his home, a high hill with the letter "C" made out of white rocks, standing for "Crawford," the town he lives in. 

There were more than one terribly sharp, narrow curves in that road, and I, sitting between Jonathan and Tim who was driving, was whispering, "Dear Jesus!" more than once.

We spun out more than once, leaving me more nervous than ever until Tim got the 4-wheel-drive gear in place in his poor old dilapidated truck.  

He did his best to drive slowly and carefully coming back down the road, much to the relief of his poor old mother. I think it is much worse coming down such roads than going up them. 

Tim will not have to look back with regret that he didn't care about his mom's feelings, because he did. And I so appreciated it. Another's care helps me overcome fear. 

Then there is the fear of the dangers my children face--like the challenges Tim faces daily driving his logging truck, especially in inclement weather. Tom rose at 1:30 or 2 Monday morning to spend the morning driving with him for the first time while the rest of us blissfully slept another four hours. 

Over and over I have to hand my children and my fears about them to the Lord. It is the best place to put them. 

I also allow myself to voice my fears, to let my family know. Whether it helps or not is for you to judge. 

This is what the children said when they heard I was worried about them going out on the river in their canoes after so many swimmers we know have drowned. 

"They knew how to swim," they told me, "and we don't, so we aren't going to drown!" 

:) :):)

And they didn't!