Recently, when my family tent camped atop foothills in the Rocky Mountains, we bedded down after having stored our food in the bear locker for the night.
When I awoke in the dead of night, all was silent and completely still except for a low growling I heard close to the ground near our tent.
I froze with fear. We were in a remote place, vast and wild. Anything could happen with only a thin layer of tent vinyl separating us from whatever was outside. My mind raced with images of a hungry bear or cougar pacing mere feet from us.
I quietly shook my husband awake, desperately hoping he’d slept with the hatchet under his pillow.
“There’s a big animal outside the tent!” I hissed in his ear. “I hear growling!”
My heart practically beat out of my chest as we both heard the growling again.
This time, it seemed even closer than before.
“Julie,” my husband whispered. “That’s . . . MY STOMACH.”
Relief flooded my whole being as we both laughed.
How quickly my mind had jumped to the worst possible scenario!
Mountains from molehills
Fear does that. Some of us are quicker to latch onto fear than others.
Unfortunately, I must admit I’m one of the former. As a result, I tend to “make mountains out of molehills,” as my mother used to say.
For me, this tendency to latch quickly onto fear does not just apply to possible physically dangerous situations, but it also encroaches on spiritual and emotional matters as well.
When I think about it, fear is very much a part of who I am and why I do what I do. It is one of my human limitations I pray God can give me the grace to overcome.
It seems I have to ask for that grace in every single situation that arises. Because I am human. Because we are not in Heaven yet.
And because I have to learn to depend on God alone for absolutely everything.
Like a child
Think of the small child who turns toward his father or mother for comfort in the still darkness of night.
He calls out “Daddy!” or “Mommy!” because he is afraid of the shadows on the wall, the monster under the bed, the creepy things lurking in his closet.
In the same way, like a child, I have to remember in the still of my own black nights of adulthood, to call on my Heavenly Father to give me the grace to face the trials and challenges on my path toward heaven.
As an adult, the growling animal outside my tent or the scary things lurking under my bed take different forms.
Perhaps it’s the fear of unknown difficulties happening in the future or the fear of overcoming addiction or temptation.
Perhaps it’s the fear I feel rising in me when I think of how to help my aging parents, or giving my children the right tools as they move on to college, or the thousands of worries that plague me as I try to fulfill my duties as a daughter, wife, mother, sister, and friend.
Have no fear
But we are assured so many times throughout the Bible to have no fear.
“It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed” (Deuteronomy 31:8).
“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love” (1 John 4:18).
Looking to the lives of the saints, we can gain strength from St. John Paul II’s motto of courage: “Be not afraid.”
No matter our fears here on earth — whether they are real mountains or imagined molehills, whether they exist in the physical, emotional, or spiritual realms — our reaction to them must be the same, for children and adults alike.
Fear v. love
We call on our Heavenly Father to supplant our fear with love instead, with the steadfast grace that assures us that no matter what happens to us on earth, ultimately if we place our trust in Him and follow Him, we will be with Him in Heaven one day.
No earthly fears can ever take that from us. Nothing can ever overcome the ultimate victory that has already been won.
Let the animals outside your tent growl all they want. Let the shadows on the wall loom to no effect.
No matter what happens here on earth, these fears cannot touch you, a child of God who knows his future safety lies in the loving hands of his Father.
Live not in fear then, but for love of God alone.
Julianne Nornberg, mother of four children, is a member of St. John the Baptist Parish in Waunakee.