identity exercise: courageous

I've never thought of myself as courageous.  It's in my jar several times though, since a few people mentioned it, so I guess it's time to have a look at myself and see if I can identify it in myself. 

Ok well, one way I am courageous is in travel.  When I first got married, we moved down here to the states and I was terrified to go anywhere by myself.  I didn't know the roads, I was so afraid of getting lost and being alone somewhere, not able to find my way home.  Brant worked second shift for the first two years we were married, so we'd hang out in the morning and then I'd sit at home until he got home.  I'd read and scrapbook mostly.  We didn't have a TV or computer.  I was afraid to cook for him because even though I'd had experience growing up, my self-esteem and confidence were so tanked I believed I couldn't do it.  

The first time I drove anywhere by myself, Brant encouraged me to drive him to work so I could have the car to go grocery shopping and then go back to his work so we could have supper together.  I was literally in tears.  He was so sweet; he said he knew I could do it, and he highlighted the route with pink highlighter in the big Lancaster County map book we had, explaining every step as he drew.  I think I hyperventilated the whole way home.  But I made it!

If you told my family when I was young, that I'd end up being the one with wanderlust, they'd have laughed you right out the door.  I was the most timid, careful child you could have ever met.  I was scared of everything, I was painfully shy, I was a bookworm who dove down the rabbit hole and fought against returning to real life.  I was studious in school and one of my worst elementary moments was the day I received my first C - in grade three.  When my parents wanted us to try new things, I was the most reluctant.  I was a highly sensitive wee thing, pretty much always on the verge of tears.

Occasionally a feisty side would peek out - like the time in grade three when a bully tried to beat me up and instead, heart pounding, I wrapped my hand in her long curly locks and pulled her down to the ground beside me before running away; or the time when, at 7 years old, I strongly admonished a giant grade seven boy for misbehaving and making us all wait in line outside after the recess bell.

When we moved to PA, I had no friends and a husband who was very reserved like me, and not the most relational guy in the world.  Friends came slowly.  By the time we had children, I was brave enough to have my own car and drive anywhere locally.  But as my kids got older, I wanted them to know their extended families and my husband didn't want to take the time to travel very much.  Feisty me said, "Well then, I'm going by myself!"  Glad he didn't have to go, Brant gave me his blessing and off I went.  I'd get the kids up at four in the morning and drive four hours, stop at a certain travel plaza for breakfast at McDonalds and to get the kids dressed, then hit the road and be at my mom's by noon or 1pm. I took them to my in-laws' by myself, too.

Gaining the confidence to travel by myself has been a huge blessing and a gift.  I've found myself being given multiple opportunities to travel to other countries to minister over the years.  I've been able to visit friends, attend conferences, and see places I never would have guessed I'd see.  When I look back at the fearful person I was, I realize that although I still wrestle with fear in other areas, I've been able to conquer it and become courageous when it comes to travel.  

So. yay me. :)  Courage is a gift from God and I'm pretty thankful for it.