Little House of Fear

When I was younger, I went through a season of paralyzing fear. I had

watched a Halloween episode of Little House on the Prairie.

Yeah, I know, but hear me out. There were decapitations and

heads being served on silver platters, and Laura Ingalls was

at her wits end. It made no difference whatsoever that it was

all a series of Halloween pranks that ended with everyone

laughing about the mix-up. For me, the damage had been

done.

I went weeks without sleeping and would not leave my

parents’ sides. My mom eventually took me to see the doctor.

Little House on the Prairie...who knew? The only time I

remember feeling safe during that time was when I was with

my mom and/or dad.

Nighttime became a dreaded ritual.

Mom would tuck me safely in bed and promise me there was

nothing under my bed, in my closet, or outside my window.

No number of promises or persuasion could convince me

I was safe. So, every night, I would creep into my parents’

bedroom and curl up on the floor at the foot of their bed.

It didn’t matter if they knew I was there or not. I knew they

were. I knew I was with them. It was a place I could seek

refuge. I felt braver just being where they were.

When the challenges and difficulties of life are too much,

take some time to shelter with God. Seek His refuge. Hang

out with Jesus and allow Him to take care of you. Let Him

whisper truth over you. Rest in His protective arms.

excerpt from My Roots are Showing: The Twists and Turns of Tamar's Tale

In case no one has told you today, you are loved and appreciated. And now you know.