(Family. Siblings. Parents. Aunts and Uncles. Bloodlines. Legacies.

What I’ve written in my journals will stay in my journals.

What I write here will be, hopefully, introspective, pondering, seeking the Truth.

How has what happened way back then affected and ruled my whole life? How have emotions that were birthed way back then, played a part in every decision, every thought, each and every response or reaction that I have made throughout my whole life?

As I laid in bed this morning around 5:30 a.m. on, I realized something. “Way back when” is where and when fear became a reality in my whole life. And just now as I wrote that, a tiny tickle, a response to what I wrote—that fear—tickled. Not with a response of laughter as tickles can, but a reminder of that’s where it first manifested in my life.

That day.

Fear became a friend. A protector—which is can be. People thought of me as shy, as I was—maybe still am—but it was more than that.

If people that I knew and loved, saw and played with, lived with everyday of my young life until I started school—if they did what they did, what more would strangers do to me?

I just now thought of a book on my bookshelf. The Gift of Fear (Affiliate Link) by Gavin De Becker. Reading excerpts now. That might be what I do today—for the whole day. Read that book again. Not only to help in writing this piece, but also … in help in writing period.

On page 97, I had drawn a box around the word “angry.”

Father down on the same page, I had underlined “Anger.”

In the same paragraph that I had drawn a big bracket around, the first sentence is, “Anger is a very seductive emotion because it is profoundly energizing and exhilarating. Sometimes people feel their anger is justified by past unfairnesses, and with the slightest excuse, they bring forth resentments unrelated to the present situation. You could say such a person has prejuststified hostility, more commonly known as having a chip on his shoulder.”

Do I have a chip on my shoulder?

Lord? Do I?

On page 176, I underlined “anger” and “righteous indignation.” Page 177 I had drawn a box around “anger.” And on page 242 … and on page ….

I keep walking away from writing this. Finding other things to do. I put away a shirt just now and shut off my digital scale. I filed paperwork. I killed a fly and flushed it.

Just now as I sat back down, I pulled out a piece of paper from my steno pad that I keep beside my bed for those “Night Notes.” It was stuck under this computer. I had written on it: “Lord help me start making a list of ways that thing has ruled my life.”

Dang.

Well, 1) Anger, 2) Fear, 3) Overthinking things or situations.

For a start.

They say fear and anger are related.

It all started with fear.

About fifteen years ago, I think in 2012, the Lord led me to a special place: Centro Misionero De Cristo Para Las Naciones. A total Spanish speaking church. Other than a little Spanish, I learned so much.

I learned love. No. Love. Like in capital Love. Jesus Love. Acceptance.

I went in total fear. “Lord I don’t speak Spanish.” He told me that I’d learn. “Lord I don’t know anyone.” You will.

On one special event an evangelist came to speak. I had to go back to the church after already being there for the earlier service I think—not bad—thirty miles or so away from home. I knew beyond a doubt, maybe a knowing from the Lord, that I would get set free from fear that night.

And I did.

During the ministry time at the end, he blew on me and I went down. Totally of the Holy Spirit. I stayed down so long that when I came back, most people had left or moved on. They thought that I had received a special message from God or something. Pastor Miguel made it a point to ask me interpreting with the evangelist what God had said to me. What was the special message?

Well, I know now.

God is Love

I got set free from fear by Love. BEFORE I knew why I had fear.

I finally realized another reason that God led me to Centro Misionero.

1John 4:18, 19 in the Amplified Translation (Affiliate Link) says, “There is no fear in love [dread does not exist], but full-grown (complete, perfect) love turns fear out of doors and expels every trace of terror! For fear brings with it the thought of punishment, and [so] he who is afraid has not reached the full maturity of love [is not yet grown into love’s complete perfection]. We love Him, because He first loved us.”

In the New English Translation, (Affiliate Link) “There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears punishment has not been perfected in love. We love because he loved us first.”

Verse nineteen in the Passion Translation, (Affiliate Link) “Our love for others is our grateful response to the love God first demonstrated to us.”

I didn’t know or remember what had happened when I was three or four back then until last year, 2024, when little blinks of memories started popping into my mind. They didn’t make any sense. I prayed and asked God to reveal the real story or take it completely away.

He revealed more and more until I knew.

But I also knew that Jesus had been there the whole time. I could ask: why didn’t he stop it? Why doesn’t he stop the wars going on right now? Why doesn’t he stop fires that destroy his creation?

I don’t know.

I just know that He was there. I see Him even now. He has tears in His eyes.

Back to the book, The Gift of Fear. (Affiliate Link) Page 242, “Until America focuses shame on perpetrators instead of victims, these children will have children, and the war they thought was over won’t be over, for them or for us.”

Why didn’t I go on to abuse? Why didn’t I get hooked on drugs or alcohol? I don’t remember any violence as a kid.

It wasn’t until I was married to a man who had his own baggage. It wasn’t until I had kids who had minds of their own. Then I realized that I was a very angry person. I didn’t abuse them. I didn’t beat them. They got spankings, but deservedly so.

Why didn’t I go out and commit crimes of violence or theft? I wasn’t a perfect kid. I was the one who brought the booze home. I didn’t hide it.

I was allowed and encouraged to draw and write and play music. To read.

Page. 240, “… but one of the saddest is the destruction of the child’s belief that he has purpose and value.”

My parents loved me. They valued me. They reflected the love of God to me as they received His love from Him.

Why didn’t I turn that fear into anger against my fellow man, my fellow sibling, my extended family?

I had Jesus.

I had Hope.

I had Love.