Of Fear & Finger-Puppets

Confession: I was a homeschooler. For the overwhelming majority of my elementary, middle school and high school education. Unless you count the 1st and 2nd grade years in a private Christian school. And then the 6th & 7th grade years in a Christian school so tiny that I really count it as homeschooling… at a different location… with three other kids from one family who happened to be good friends. Now there are alot of misconceptions about homeschooling (these kids never leave the house, they’re unsocialized and either really smart or really dumb). I liked my house, though I did end up leaving it several times a week. I never lacked for friends or socialization. And while I’m neither really smart nor really dumb, I did grow up with an overactive appreciation for books.

Homeschooling can be a bit of a soapbox. And I’m not really blogging about homeschooling today. I did truly appreciate the education that homeschooling (and a mom that devoted her time to making sure her four children were intelligent, well-rounded and not lazy individuals) gave to me, and I’m sure that it formed my ideals about education. And gave me time to devote to pursuits like music and reading and lots of Bible study. I liked being homeschooled…. and once a year, we would head out to the Pennsylvania Homeschool Convention. It was a big deal. My mom would buy all the curricula she needed for the year, and my sister & I could revel in the fact that we were not as weird as most other teenaged homeschoolers. Back in the day, there were some real crazies.

I’ve had no reason to go to such homeschool conventions in years and years. My sister, on the other hand, with her three little ones, is in full-force homeschooling mode! And then, last week, my mom decided to get sick. (note: she did not really decide to do anything of the sort. She had to undergo urgent-though not quite emergency-surgery and was at home recuperating). And so who gets selected for moral support and convention-buddy duty? That’d be me. I don’t have any little ones and my cat is vehemently opposed to Hooked on Phonics, so my role is purely scouting out the free chocolate in the arena and instagram-ing everything that looked remotely interesting (FOOD!).

Again, this blog post is not about food. Or homeschooling. I’m just a rambler.

While Nikki and I were on our first solo road trip in pretty much years (her little girls were home with daddy), we talked and talked and talked. About life and Jesus and food and habits and homeschooling and relationships and wedding photography and keeping house and my driving skills and whether the car was too hot or too cold, etc. Towards the end of the day, I made a random comment ending with “that makes me nervous.”

Nikki stopped me. “You know, you’ve said that phrase alot today. About 3 or 4 times.” In her own kind way, she warned me to be careful of the words that were coming out of my mouth. And so at that moment and for days since Saturday, I have seriously considered my words. “That makes me nervous.” I had been talking about random things like wedding photography, driving down the road in between those construction barriers.. silly stuff. Things that I don’t think twice about. The words that were coming out of my mouth illustrated what was in my heart.

Nervous = Anxious

Anxious = Fear

What was I afraid of? More importantly, why am I afraid? How could I fear when there is nothing to fear?

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:6-7

Yes, I learned a good lesson on Saturday.

And that’s me & my sis with some cute finger-puppets.

I love bunnies. And instagram. (follow me: i’m naomielle5)