Courage Is Not the Opposite of Fear
I want to correct something, because I believed it for a long time and it did me no favors.
I used to think courage meant not being afraid. That brave people simply did not feel what I was feeling, and that my fear was proof I did not have whatever they had.
Then I spent two weeks under a tree that was lying on my roof, and I learned that is not how any of it works.
The night I did not feel brave
The third night was the worst of it.
My husband had been out cutting trees again. It was dark by five. No propane, no food, no heat, and the sound of more ice coming down out in the woods.
I was not calm and steady in that moment. I was cold and hungry and frightened, and I said so.
Later that same night, Dan got on the side by side and rode out into the dark and the cold to a neighbor’s house, not knowing if anyone would be home, to ask for propane. It was a cold and prayerful hour while he was gone.
He was not fearless either. He went anyway.
That is when I understood the difference.
Courage is a decision, not a feeling
Fear tells you what is at stake. It is doing its job. The problem is when we wait for it to go away before we act, because sometimes it does not go away.
Every single thing that got us through those two weeks was done by somebody who was still afraid.
Packing the car when we did not know how long we would be gone. Driving an hour and a half on roads full of ice, slush and red mud with four animals in the back. Accepting help I did not want to impose on anyone. Walking back into that house afterward to see what the trees had done.
None of that was done from a place of confidence. All of it was done anyway.
The fear that showed up late
There is one more thing about fear I did not expect, and I include it because I think it will help someone.
We arrived safely in Amory. The animals were in. Everyone was fine. The emergency, technically, was over.
And that is when it hit me all at once. My PTSD kicked in and my memory of unpacking the car is simply gone. I know it took about two hours. It felt like six. I cannot tell you much about any of it.
I was steady during the frightening parts and I fell apart after we were safe.
If that has ever happened to you, if you have wondered what is wrong with you for coming undone once the crisis passed, please hear this. Nothing is wrong with you. That is a very common way the body handles it. You held on while you had to, and then you set it down.
What I would say to you
If you are looking at something in front of you and thinking, I cannot do that, I want you to notice something about that sentence.
You are probably not saying you are unable. You are saying you are afraid. Those are different problems and they have different answers.
You do not have to feel ready. You do not have to feel brave. You have to take one step while feeling exactly the way you feel right now.
The title of my book comes from a line I kept coming back to that week. When you think you cannot go forward, look up. That is not a slogan to me. It is the actual instruction I followed, one cold day at a time.
Call to Action: God & Ice is the story of those two weeks and the fear that ran underneath all of it. If you are facing something that feels bigger than you are, you may find some company in these pages. Read the book here.
