Lately I’ve been facing a reality that I’ve never faced:  the reality of being truly happy.  For the first time in my life, I am not struggling to make something happen, or feeling incomplete because I don’t have something that I want.  I’m not trying to get rid of anything bad or secure something I deem should be mine.  I am stunningly content.  I know enough to realize that this will not last.  These times in life come and go, as they should.  But for this moment, much of what I prayed for and hoped for has materialized.  I can look back on the tears and despair and w…a…i…t…i…n…g and understand why that all had to happen.  To get me here.  To bring me to this city, to this love, to this life.  Blessings upon blessings.

It’s scary as hell.

It turns out that when you get things you hope for, the waiting disappears but something else can show up in its place.  This something is called fear.  And telling it to take a hike is a daily endeavor.  I feel affirmed by the scene in Sex and the City (the movie) where Charlotte tells Carrie that she has everything she ever dreamed of and she’s terrified.  When I first watched the movie last year, my thought was, “Shut up you dumb slut.  What are you complaining about?  Oh poor baby, are those diamond shoes hurting your prissy little feet?’  But I get her now, that Charlotte.  She couldn’t run because she was afraid of what she could lose.  I experienced something similar a few months after the BF and I got together.  I was on a plane, fastening my seat belt as we prepared to take off.  I’ve always enjoyed flying.  Probably because if anything goes wrong, there’s no way it could be my fault.  I love zooming through the air while I read a book, nap, and let the pilot do his job.

This flight was different.  As we sped across the runway and lifted up, I felt terrified.  I started wondering if this pilot was adequately trained.  I wondered if he had been hanging out at the airport bar before boarding.  I wondered what that bump was.  I wondered why I was suddenly turning into my mother (because she is afraid to fly.  Not the usual reasons).  I imagined crashing and all the things I’d miss out on now that I’d finally gotten to a good place.  I got mad at God for taking it all away from me.  This was all within two minutes of takeoff.

The great thing about having a dream come true is that your dream came true.  The not-so-great thing about it is that you now face the constant possibility of losing it.  Being a believer in God, and also being a person partial to symmetry and balance, I believe in evil in the form of a devil.  I don’t think he has a tail and a pitchfork, but I do think he’s an asshole.  And while God looks to bless me at every corner (even at corners I don’t like visiting), the father of lies would like nothing more than to take my joy.

We have a battle on our hands.

So while I frolic around in meadows and sing songs and walk in the clouds and listen to love songs without puking, I also pack some spiritual heat.  I remain aware of the fact that only truth can battle and beat evil.  So I listen to the truth.  I preach it to myself, I put it on my iPod (sermons at redeemer.com), I read it, I pray it.  Because the other option is living in the fear of loss, of a monster at every corner.  I realize that this daily battle is the tradeoff for living in a broken world.  But amidst the brokenness, the two choices remain.

1) Get scared and run things       myself.  And end up looking like Fred here.

OR

2)  Put on my seat belt                   and let the pilot do his job.  And just let go and fly.

Umm…DUH.