When I was ten years old, we were playing dodge ball at school on a December afternoon.  I woke up in the hospital the next morning with a concussion and hairline skull fracture.

A month later, after physically recovering, I cued up to play dodge ball again.  A classmate who was cued up next to me said, “Kim, you don’t have play.”  In other words, “We know what happened to you.  You don’t have to prove anything to us.”  No, actually, I did need to play.  I needed to not end up afraid of a game that landed me in the hospital.  So, I played several times until I was satisfied that I wasn’t afraid of dodge ball.  I then gave up the game, having discovered that I had lost interest.

There were, however, other facets to fear stemming from that afternoon game of ball. Several years later, I happened upon a red ball of the fateful dodge ball type. Upon seeing that red ball, my stomach instantly tied up with fear. It hadn’t occurred to me at age ten that I needed to work through fear of the red ball; later, it took me too long to work through the lingering fear of that ball. Another facet of fear from that game was a social fear. I had been friends with the classmate who threw the dodge ball that had hit me in the head. He and I were socially awkward children. When I returned to school six days after landing in the hospital, I naturally looked around the school campus for him. I spotted him alone, navigating the playground. He, myself, and the likely the whole school knew that he had thrown the ball. Had his older brother told their mother about what happened at school? He and I – two awkward kids – never spoke again, apart from one awkward “hello” in the hallway during high school. On my end, I was racked with guilt. My concussion was my fault; I had gotten distracted watching another group of kids play hopscotch instead of paying attention to the ball that I should have dodged. But, I didn’t know how to talk to my classmate. He didn’t know how to talk to me. A friendship ended. If his mother found out what had happened at school, he may have been blamed for knocking a girl unconscious. ….When my mother and I discussed the dodge ball game in the days following the event, she blamed neither me nor the child who threw the ball – her view was that the school staff should have prevented the injury (she said so the school principal the day after the dodge ball game)…..

So much fear from that situation. My potential fear afterward of a game. My fear of red textured balls. Social anxiety for two children. My mother’s fear when the doctor spoke about the possibility of me ending up in a coma. At least some of these fears were understandable. Yet, the ending of a childhood friendship could have been prevented if the other child and I could have figured out how to talk to one another. Or, if the adults around us – teachers, parents – had perhaps thought to make sure that there wasn’t any lingering tension between the two of us.

The vast majority of us live with fear. Fear of all kinds of things. Some fears are understandable, even reasonable (fear of getting run over by an oncoming vehicle, for example). Too often, we allow fear to immobilize us.

Fear has consequences. Friendships ended, opportunities lost, lives stilted. Far too often, we don’t fully live because we allow our fears to hinder us. “I couldn’t take that job, I couldn’t try that new thing, I couldn’t learn to overcome X or Y obstacle, I couldn’t deal with A or B emotional issue, resolve a matter with that person…. How many ways do you allow fear to keep you from fully living your best life? How many regrets do you have because you allowed fear to hold you back?

Perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18). I heard this any number of times over the years. This began to make sense after I returned to church in 2016. My return to church involved a re-conversion experience told here. In that re-conversion experience, I experienced that God loves me. In the time that followed, a person of faith took the time to care. When we are in a place of love, fear fades.

Decades after the dodge ball game (this week!), I was at a grocery store and saw red textured balls in the children’s toy section. Less stomach knotting when I see these red textured balls now, but still an instant memory of a dodge ball game on a school playground. And, the instant memory of a lost friend who now lives in another state. I know he’s living in another state because I looked him several years ago – thinking then that I should phone him. I had thought through the potential phone call when I looked him up several years ago – he would likely see my name on call display when I would call, likely invoking a reaction on his end. If he answered the phone, I would start the conversation by saying, “I am sorry.” He would know what I was sorry for. I would then remark, “It was my fault.” Beyond my introduction, I would then let him talk. I would talk only enough to keep the conversation going, if he was at a loss for words, with the goal of healing an old emotional wound…..

Yesterday afternoon, I looked him up again. Found what appeared to be a current phone number. Waited until he would likely be home from work, called the phone number intending to attempt to finally clear the air. A turning stomach when I dialed the number. Earlier in the day, I was hoping for reconciliation. When I actually dialed the number, I was unfortunately relieved to discover that the phone number was disconnected (“Upon dialing the number, I am nervous to talk to him. Can an old hurt actually be resolved decades later? Does he even want to hear from me after all this time? Is my attempted phone call to him self-serving?”)….. If circumstances allow us to cross paths again (say, a high school reunion), I am now ready to talk to him.

Some say that courage is acting even when we are afraid. Sure. There’s also more available to us, beyond our own courage. We know there are times when we don’t conjure up courage, when we detrimentally stay in fear.

Staying in fear is not trusting in God. If we allow fear to keep us in fear, then we believe – or resign ourselves to believing – that what we fear has more control over us than God can conquer. Feeling that the things we fear are bigger than God’s ability to lead us out of what scares us is not living in faith, no matter how faithful we might otherwise want to believe ourselves to be.

How willing are you to move beyond fear? If you might be willing to move beyond your fears that you allow to hinder your life (in whatever ways), try surrendering. Allow God to resolve your situation(s) and your fears. This is an act of faith, requiring a trusting relationship with God (there’s going to be prayer involved!). This might also involve a conversation with people in your life (“Hey, here’s a fear in my life…..I’m going to see about getting past this fear…..”).

God loves us. When we allow God’s love to be present to us, perfect love casts out fear.

Kim Burkhardt blogs at A Parish Catechist and The Books of the Ages (and a member of the Association of Catholic Publishers). If you are a new visitor, it would be great to have you follow this blog (thank you!). If you know someone who would like this blog, please share it with them (thank you!). Also, your support ($$) to help sustain this blog is welcome.