Facing The Giant Called Fear

One of the most frustrating things I've dealt with these past 18 months has been fear. Things I've never feared before nearly bring me to my knees. Last fall I almost passed on leading Bible study, something I've done for 6 years, because of these fears. I just wanted to stay in the comfort, safety and security of my home. Had I not taken that one small step, into the tender, loving care of my Thursday night girls, I may very well have headed down the road of a recluse.

I now face another aspect of those fears and I am running straight into them, hitting as hard and fast as I can. I am terrified yet I go forward.

The last week of July I am traveling internationally again, albeit a small step, to Toronto, Canada. Steve and I will be part of the small front runner mission team with a goal of setting the stage for future teams working with missionaries already on the ground.

Let me be clear: I am excited yet utterly frightened. It is a strange dichotomy.

When we were first asked to be part of this my gut reaction was to say no. I knew for certain the doctor would say no and while I desperately want to go, I was hoping that could be my out because of these insane fears.

But he said yes. "Canada is no big deal. You don't need shots and there is nothing there that would be any more dangerous to you than where you live. Just be sure to carry the card you received with your medication and secure it between ice packs to keep it cold until you get there," the nurse said.

At once I knew the only obstacle between me and Toronto was my own fear and anxiety. And there is plenty of both. I've never been away from home on "injection day" and the potential for a negative reaction is still all too real. I don't know if I will be able to keep up with the others. I don't know if I will struggle to get through every minute of every day. But I do know I am supposed to go.

In the end, I have to trust my life into the hands of my Creator and the One who sustains my every breath. I don't want to spend the rest of my life missing adventure because of what might happen. I don't want to be a captive. Yes, my current medical condition doesn't allow me to do things I would like and it slows me down or causes me to find a work-around for other things but I don't have to lay down and take it without a fight.

So, fight I will. I plan to get on that plane and do whatever it is God has for us to do in Toronto. I may not be able to go to the jungles of the Amazon or the plains of Africa, but I can go to Canada (among other places) and I will. Who knows? Maybe in the process I just might be a blessing to someone.

I Blinked and It Was 23 Years Later

June 24, 1988 was a hot day as was the case for the entire spring. It was just days before Yellowstone National Park began to burn. But I remember it mostly as the day I became Mrs. Steven Lortz.

On June 25, 1988 we got into my loaded down Subaru hatchback with a U-Haul strapped to the top, filled with wedding gifts. We were headed to Phoenix where Steve had already been going to college for a year. We were young, idealistic and the world was just waiting for us to discover it. By the time we arrived in Phoenix 2 days later, our air conditioner had gone out and it was 113 degrees....every day for the entire summer. I dubbed it "the summer of 113". Ever tried looking for a job in a car with no air conditioning and it's 113+? Let me tell you, it isn't pretty. By then I had fallen in love with the Saguaro cactus and was so excited for my new life, my new adventure.

I haven't been disappointed. Things haven't always gone the way we wanted or would have liked but it's always been an adventure. As I lay in bed trying to wake up this morning, I recalled to myself all the things we have been through together, the ways we've succeeded and yes, even our failures. I don't know that I would change a second of it. We've had seasons of little with lots of wants and seasons of much with little to want. At times we had less than $1 in our checking account and not a cent of savings. Those are some of the best times we've spent together. In those early years our post-marital dates were drives in the desert with a packed lunch. When we had a few extra dollars we got to go out for a $4.25 pizza and $1 movie. We never felt badly about it either. We knew when Steve graduated we'd conquer the world and until then, we settled for 39 cent soda refills and a drive to look at houses we'd buy one day. We never worried for a second.

We've been unbelievably blessed to travel to some amazing places....from the mountains of Alaska and the green hills of Germany to the beaches of Hawaii, Jamaica and Haiti; from the Statue of Liberty to the Space Needle of Seattle; from the swamps of Florida to the Missions of Texas; from the green ocean of the Atlantic to the blue ocean of the Pacific and points too numerous to count in between. We've moved 12 times, all of those in the first 15 years. We've owned 15 cars (yes, I used to have a problem) and 3 houses. We've had the privilege of living in 4 different states, all very different from the one before and the one after! We've had amazing jobs, working in industries we always wanted to and accomplished things we never thought possible.

We've suffered much loss...Steve's grandpa, his grandma, my aunt, my grandma, his dad, my uncle, my dad and his uncle. We've survived financial distress, infertility, sickness, disease (x2), loss of jobs due to downsizing and corporate buyouts and many, many deployments. I watched with much pride as that amazing, brave soul eagerly went to war in lands afar. He was confident, secure and all too ready to defend our freedoms here and secure those same freedoms for the oppressed and weak. We've thrived in occupations where others have crumbled. Quite a bit of our time together has actually been apart. We don't know any differently and it's worked for us. We've heard that absence makes the heart grow fonder and my heart is quite fond of my fair-haired, blue-eyed prince.

That list is astounding for me to recall. It is by the grace of God alone that we grew together. It is our individual pursuit of a relationship with Christ that has caused us to draw closer to each other.

There is nobody on this earth who understands me like Steve does. At times he knows and understands me better than I know and understand myself. He knows my stories, gets my jokes (and still laughs at them), is familiar with my quirkiness, my shortcomings, my failures and my insecurities. He loves me anyway. He protects me, fights for me (for us) and adds so much joy to my world.

I went to bed a new bride and awoke this morning, 23 years later. In my groggy waking up time I heard the shower running and my heart was happy.

The Reality of Thursday

These days I have a pill-reminder-box. It is so much easier to fill it just once a week than to have to dispense what I need every day from multiple bottles. It's not just an ordinary pill box, it's an am/pm pill-reminder box. And I use both sides 2 days a week. In case you're wondering, yes, it makes me feel like I'm 87. Seriously, it's ridiculous.

Every Thursday as I open the a.m. side I am reminded of what remains in the p.m. side. Without fail I ask Steve, "do you know what today is?" He never gets it wrong. "It's Thursday," he says. "Do you know what that means?" I ask. "Yep, I do," he replies. We both know. It's injection day. I sigh. I hate Thursdays. I have begun to think I will never get used to them and in reality, I do not want to accept this is part of my life, each week, every week, indefinitely.

Most weeks the pain is not all that intense, at least not until the very end which lasts 5-10 seconds. Other weeks it hurts from the first click. It all depends on the location and to avoid a reaction we have to move it around. I cry not over the physical pain although I do frequently plead with Steve to make it stop. He can't do anything to make it stop and I know that. This would probably frustrate or anger a different person. Not my ever-steady Steve. No, he puts his hand out and quietly says, "Squeeze my hand. You're alright. It's almost over."

I cry because of emotion. I don't want to do this every week. I am reminded each time of the limitations this brings to my life. I have to be home on the day it's shipped to me. As we travel, I have to think about how to keep it cool and plan what we can do on any given day to work around it. I hate it. It drives me crazy. But those are only the minor frustrations. The big tears fall because I don't want to be sick. I don't want to inject this junk in my body every week.

Steve's been doing the injections, not because I can't but because I just don't want to. When there comes a week he's not around I can and will do it. But for now I don't have to and I choose not to. After it's over we wait for 30 minutes to see if an immediate reaction is coming and then I head to bed. By this time I can hardly keep my eyes open as the Benadryl has taken affect. For the next few minutes Steve stays awake to see if my breathing is normal before he goes to sleep himself. This is at my request. He believes that since we're 4 months into it, I am probably not going to react. He's very confident but it makes me nervous; scares me actually yet he indulges me in this for my peace of mind.

And then it's Friday.