One word can encapsulate the answer to that opening question: ‘Nobody.’ Well, to be precise, very few people. Trust — a seemingly small word but a colossal mountain to ascend for many individuals. It’s a tiny word, yet when fractured, it has the power to dismantle even the strongest relationships.
My struggles with trust don’t necessarily stem from a specific event in my life; rather, they manifest as a fear of potential consequences if I relinquish control to someone else. During my child’s formative years, there were only a handful of people I felt comfortable entrusting with her care when I couldn’t be there. Her daycare was conveniently located just 90 seconds from my workplace, and I deliberately limited outings that required her to be apart from me.
Fast forward to today, and my dogs are now at the center of similar trust considerations. Our vacation plans and weekend getaways are meticulously crafted around their needs because I find it challenging to place my trust in pet sitters when we’re away.
Navigating Unsettling and Anxious Days:
My struggles with trust, whether in people, society, or myself, have been a persistent source of unnecessary anxiety over the years. My battles with anxiety, which I’ll delve into further as we continue sharing our experiences on this website, largely stem from this lack of trust.
A few Sundays ago, my wife and I attended a local church service, and the sermon felt tailor-made to address my insecurities. It was as if the minister had an uncanny insight into my needs that day. However, it couldn’t have been the case because the minister had no idea who I was. I was merely a visitor in the congregation, and there was no way he could have known the profound impact his message would have on my life.
The crux of his Sunday morning message was this: “Do You Trust Jesus… Enough?” We all have some level of trust in Jesus; otherwise, we wouldn’t have been there that morning. But do we trust Jesus enough? He recounted the biblical story of an official whose son was gravely ill and dying. When the official encountered Jesus, he implored Him to have mercy on his son and heal him. In response, Jesus informed the man that unless he witnessed signs and wonders, he wouldn’t believe. Nevertheless, the father persisted in begging Jesus to heal his ailing child, to which Jesus replied, “Go, your son will live.” As the official journeyed back home, he was met by his servants, who conveyed the joyous news that his son had made a full recovery and regained his health. Inquiring about the precise moment when his son’s fever had subsided, the servants informed him that it had occurred at the same time Jesus had assured him of his son’s recovery: one in the afternoon.
Who did this official and father trust? He trusted Jesus. He trusted Jesus enough to return home and entrust Him with his child’s well-being. He trusted Jesus enough not to persist in begging for his child’s healing. He trusted Jesus enough to obey His words and wait. Throughout that sunny Sunday morning at church, I repeatedly asked myself, “Did I trust Jesus enough?”
A Lifelong Dance with Anxiety:
Anxiety has been a constant companion in my life since the age of five. The catalyst for this ongoing struggle was a traumatic event that occurred during my kindergarten years. My mother and I found ourselves caught in the midst of a thunderstorm while returning from a field trip to the city park. The storm unleashed heavy rain, thunderclaps, blustery winds, and sharp lightning, creating a chaotic and unsettling atmosphere. Our car careened dangerously, narrowly missing a collision with a brick retaining wall by mere feet before landing in the front yard of an unoccupied house.
This incident took place in an era before cell phones, so we embarked on foot to seek help and find a telephone. The yard we had inadvertently landed in was fortunately not too far from my great Aunt Lucille’s residence. However, she, too, was absent at the time. Whether it was the harrowing experience of walking through the storm, the cacophony of rain, or the anxiety stemming from the near-death encounter, I found myself uncontrollably urinating on her porch. The additional layer of anxiety quickly set in, compounding my distress. Fortunately, a passing Good Samaritan soon offered assistance, helping us reach my dad and find shelter.
This car accident during that tumultuous storm initiated a lifelong tango with anxiety. For a significant portion of my life, I couldn’t disentangle the notion that thunderstorms were ominously linked to accidents. Whenever I observed stormy weather on the horizon, my immediate assumption was that someone would be involved in a harmful accident. My mind stubbornly refused to acknowledge the separation between these two events.
As I matured, my fear of thunderstorms gradually dissipated, at least for a time. However, it would resurface later in life, and I’ll delve into the reasons behind its return in a subsequent blog. In contrast, my apprehension surrounding automobile accidents only intensified as the years passed.
Driving From Fear to Confidence:
When I was around ten, my brother had a terrifying car accident on his way to college, back in the days before cell phones. He swerved into a ravine to avoid a flying trailer wheel, totaling his car but miraculously escaping with minor injuries. Although relieved, I couldn’t shake the fear that such an incident might happen again. When I started driving myself, I realized it wasn’t as scary as I had imagined. I became a confident and focused driver, surviving a few minor accidents without fear. However, that fear resurfaced when my own child reached driving age. Teaching Haley how to drive was a relatively smooth process. As her dad and I accompanied her during her practice sessions, we noticed how she adeptly controlled the vehicle. She demonstrated a remarkable commitment to safety, thoroughly adhering to traffic rules, avoiding distractions from her phone, and prioritizing the well-being of herself and other road users. Everything seemed to be progressing well, and she was just four months away from obtaining her official driver’s license when an unexpected and tragic event shook our lives to their core.
Unveiling Life’s Fragility Through Daughter’s Driving Journey:
In June 2018, on a pleasant summer evening, my husband Jason, a friend of ours, and I were relaxing on our screened-in porch, savoring the gentle breeze as the sun dipped below the horizon. However, our tranquil moment was disrupted by the blaring sirens of approaching emergency vehicles. The cacophony of ambulance sirens and the urgency of their response hinted at a grave incident unfolding just north of our residence. It was an unsettling scene that piqued our curiosity and concern.
Seeking Answers Amid the Chaos
As the moments passed, the wailing sirens were joined by the unmistakable thud-thud of helicopters hovering overhead. The anxiety intensified as we wondered what could be happening to require such a significant deployment of emergency responders and medical aircraft. I decided to reach out to my cousin-in-law, Stacy, who lived nearby and was usually well-informed about local events. I sent her a text, seeking any information about the unfolding situation. However, her usual swift response was conspicuously absent.
In my quest for answers, I turned to my Facebook feed, often a source of real-time information. Yet, before I could even scroll through the updates, my phone rang, and my heart sank. The caller ID displayed the name of my mother-in-law, Robbie. A call from her at 8:30 pm on a Saturday night could only mean one thing – devastating news.
I hesitated for a moment, my hand trembling, before finally answering. “Hello,” I said with a quiver in my voice. On the other end of the line, Robbie’s tearful sobs were all I could hear initially. My chest tightened with an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Then came the words, the words that shattered my world: “Amy, Alyssa’s dead.” It was as though time had stopped, and my mind struggled to process the enormity of what I had just heard. My daughter and husband stood beside me, their faces etched with concern and confusion, asking, “What happened? What’s going on?” I managed to inquire, “Who was with her?” as I strained to comprehend the details of the tragic accident that had claimed Alyssa’s life. My response to my family had to wait, but the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air.
“Alex and Makenna were with her,” Robbie informed me between sobs. “They’ve been airlifted to the Med in Memphis.”
At that moment, I looked at Haley and Jason, my heart aching for the painful news they were about to hear. Alyssa was Haley’s cousin, her first best friend, and Stacy’s daughter. The realization struck me like a thunderbolt – this was why Stacy hadn’t responded to my texts. Guilt washed over me, knowing I had unwittingly bombarded her with messages while she was receiving the worst news of her life. Alyssa’s passing left an unfillable void in our lives, an anguish that seemed insurmountable.
Alyssa, just a year older than Haley, had grown up alongside her. They were inseparable, sharing countless adventures, from concerts and shopping trips to camping excursions and sleepovers. She lived just across the road from Jason’s parents, and for 15 years, Haley and Alyssa spent every other Sunday afternoon together. Her sudden absence left us with a profound emptiness. Her tragic accident also reignited my anxiety about travel.
Later that year, Haley earned her driver’s license, gaining newfound independence to go wherever she pleased without relying on her parents for a ride. It was a momentous achievement, a milestone of adolescence. Haley reveled in her newfound freedom, a well-deserved rite of passage. However, as a parent, all I could do was worry. Each time she backed out of our driveway and ventured into the world on her own, I couldn’t help but recall Alyssa’s last drive, just a few miles away, when she didn’t return home. Every time we drove that stretch of highway, I couldn’t escape the thought that Alyssa had been alive at one point and then, in an instant, she wasn’t. The fragility of life weighed heavily on my mind, and it filled me with fear for Haley’s safety every time she drove away.
A Resolution Journey from Anxiety to Faith:
In recent times, I’ve started to relax, albeit ever so slightly, when it comes to Haley’s safety while she’s out on the road. However, the past five years have taken a toll on my nerves. It’s not that I lack faith in her abilities; rather, it’s my lack of trust in the other drivers sharing the road with her. Alyssa’s accident was caused by someone else’s actions, and the fear gnaws at me – could someone’s recklessness cause harm to my child too? The thought of someone else’s actions leading to such a tragedy paralyzes me with anxiety. Just typing these thoughts brings unease.
It wasn’t until a couple of Sundays ago that I had an epiphany about the root cause of my anxiety – a lack of trust in God. Anxiety, I realized, is a tool that Satan employs to seize hold of your soul, especially when you’re already in a fragile state of mind. He uses it to inject negativity into your life and sow doubt in the plans God has laid out for us. Some people may assert that “Christians should never be anxious,” but I beg to differ. As a Christian, I understand that God is in control of all things, yet turning off anxiety is not as simple as flipping a switch. Christians, like anyone else, have their own daily struggles, and anxiety happens to be mine. It rears its head when I feel like I’m not in control of a situation – when life feels uncertain, I turn to addiction to alleviate stress. In my case, the struggle with weight loss and anxiety has become intertwined.
During a recent sermon at church, the preacher posed a thought-provoking question: “Do You Trust Jesus Enough?” As I contemplated this question, I realized that, despite my claims, I didn’t trust Jesus enough. I might say I do, even convince myself that I do, but my constant worrying was evidence to the contrary. It was during that church service that I had a revelation – God is in control of the entire world, and no amount of self-inflicted worry can change His perfect plan, even when it doesn’t align with the plans we’ve set for ourselves.
I also came to understand that I didn’t trust that Alyssa’s accident might have been a part of God’s bigger picture. Perhaps His plan was to use her brief time on Earth as a testimony to others. After all, she was passionate about sharing her love for God. Maybe she reached the people she was meant to touch during her short life, and God was ready to welcome her into His presence. Perhaps His actions weren’t a punishment for those left behind but a way of teaching us to prepare for what’s to come.
During that Sunday service, I realized that to find peace in my life and alleviate my anxiety, I had to relinquish control to God. I had to trust that God cared for me. The verse in 1 Peter 5:7, “casting all your care upon him, for He careth for you,” suddenly held personal significance. God’s care extended to me; it wasn’t just a message for millions of others but also for me. He didn’t want me to worry because He held the reins.
Proverbs 3:5-6 reinforced this truth: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” We often place our trust in various things, but are we truly putting our trust in God? Are we trying to shoulder all the worry on our own? I would venture to say that 99 percent of the things we worry about never actually happen. Worry, in reality, only robs us of our joy and taints our present with anticipation of an uncertain future.
If we want to navigate life’s journey with ease, we must place our complete trust in Jesus. After all, Jesus sees the entirety of our journey, while we can only perceive it one day at a time.