Facing Fear

Today I faced two of my greatest fears: rain and bridges. Not that I'm technically afraid of either. I love listening to rain when I'm safely tucked inside my little house, and bridges can be lovely in pictures. But I hate driving in rain or over bridges. Today, I did both. Then I faced the fear of not-being-nearly-cool-enough-to-know-how-to-order-a-drink-at-Starbucks. That one is really silly, I know. But nothing makes me feel less hip than a place like Starbucks, since: 1) I'm not really a coffee drinker, and 2) I live an hour away from the nearest one and visit it about twice a year.

I was seriously counting my cash and wondering if I had enough money with me to get a hotel room and stay in town instead of crossing the Mississippi River again to go home. The rain was pounding my windshield and visibility was limited to one set of tail-lights ahead. Then I had a flashback: Youth group trip to Kentucky, 1990-something. 

Somehow I got stuck driving the mini-van that followed the moving truck that followed the school bus as our youth group toured area churches putting on a play. My passengers were one friend with a sore back, one friend who drove worse than I did, and one friend who was tending her baby in his car seat. For some reason known only to God and my frustrated high-school geography teacher, I thought Louisville, Kentucky, was a small town. The last small town we would go through before we finally reached our destination for the night.

I was wrong. So wrong. We reached Louisville at dusk on the tenth hour of a twelve-hour trip. I'm sure it was a beautiful sight. All those lights. All that water. I started getting nervous when the highway kept getting closer and closer to the river. And then, suddenly, with no warning sign that said, "Last stop! Turn back now." we were driving under the river in a long, dark, tunnel at about 100 miles per hour with cars whizzing past us in the other lane.

I freaked. Completely. I started crying and saying, "I can't do this. I can't do this. Somebody do something."

Then, from the back seat came these kind, encouraging words. "Kathy! Snap out of it or I'm going to slap you!"

My friends went on to explain we are in a tunnel, for goodness sake. You can't pull over. You have to keep going. They said these last words very slowly to make sure they sank into my deranged mind. And it worked. I gripped the wheel, opened my eyes, and kept going. 

So, you may be asking where the happy ending is for this story. I'm not sure there is one. Not the fairy-tale kind anyway. I didn't crash the van that day, but neither did facing my fear magically cure it. Today the sun came out after I crossed the scary bridge and the drive home was gorgeous. But, life doesn't always work out that way. Sometimes you just have to grit your teeth, grab the wheel, and drive on through the dark tunnels of life. Just make sure you have some good friends in the car.