“In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

Trigger Warning: The first paragraph alludes to a sexual assault. If this isn’t the right time for you to read this, feel free to skip over.

Last night, I had a nightmare. The vivid details merged childhood events into the present day. My abuser crawled into my current bed, defiling the tranquility I have created in my room. He put his finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. In my dream, I smelled his sweat mingled with Camel cigarettes and cheap beer just like I had as a child. His ominous eyes glared at me with the look I knew all too well. I knew what he was after. I felt my body trembling but somehow, I also knew that, unlike when I was a child, my cry for help would be heard. He started to lay on the bed, and I quavered out a cry for help. I don’t know what I sounded like to my husband, but in a few seconds, Terry’s arms around me awakened me from my nightmare. My abuser and his wretched smell faded, and I turned over, falling back into a peaceful sleep.

These nightmares come and go. I may go for long periods of times never dreaming about what happened over thirty-five years ago. Maybe because I am writing about it, or maybe for no reason at all, I then go a few months with nightmares occurring regularly. And then they dissipate. Terry has realized he doesn’t even need to say anything, but the simple comfort of his hand typically disturbs my nightmare enough to bring me back to peace. Occasionally, they may be more intense, and then he just softly speaks my name, and again, peace follows.

It’s Halloween time when most of the United States celebrates the spooky and scary. Yards are decorated with ghosts, zombies, and mummies. The timeless Charlie Brown classic, “The Great Pumpkin” is streaming on screens. Pumpkins are carved, fake spider webs are hung on porches, and candy is bought. Costumes are designed, kids are anxious for the sugar rush, and apples are dipped in caramel. Many churches try to minimize the spooky and promote safety by hosting “Trunk-n-Treat” events. When my children were younger, our church had an alternative Fall Fest, where we had games, candy, and costumes. I do not want to engage in debate for pros and cons about Halloween in this post. My reason for writing about this is more about the season and what it entails.

Fear has monetary value because it entertains people. It is evident in the sales of Stephen King novels, one of the more prolific horror writers. Slasher movies have multiple sequels and even historical towns like Gettysburg have ghost tours. I don’t like horror, but I do enjoy a good murder mystery or suspense thriller, when the writing creates an atmosphere that has your spine tingling with the “what ifs”. I am currently immersed in Louise Penny’s “Three Pines” series with the thoughtful Inspector Gamache who peels back desires and motives, leading to the suspect.

Despite my childhood trauma, and my love for murder mysteries, I am not a fearful person. I am not afraid of the dark, don’t mind taking walks by myself, and don’t jump at loud noises. My biggest fear is related to animals: I am uncomfortable around them. But I am even learning to overcome that fear. Especially when my dear friend Elizabeth has five dogs who welcome me exuberantly whenever I enter her home!

On the other hand, I do have some healthy fears that drive me to make positive choices in my life. About five years ago, I feared my morbid obesity would lead to an early death. This inspired me to make healthy choices resulting in a significant weight loss. I have put back on some of the weight, but my desire to live a long life has motivated me to get back to being strong and healthy. I am back to making different choices that promote health, flexibility, and strength. Good health will enable me to create more memories with my family, especially my grandchildren.

I have a healthy fear of unforgiveness. I have seen in others how lifelong grudges embitter a person. In my own life, I have seen how holding onto offenses and letting them build up causes me to waste energy and time rehashing the scenario play by play over and over in my mind. It also leads me to gossip or malign a person’s character. And looking in the mirror, I don’t like the person I see. I pursue forgiveness again and again because I am not a saint. It forces me to bring my pain and rejection to God, the only one who can help me work through those emotions. This doesn’t mean an automatic restoration of relationships with those who have caused me pain. Restoration is a two-way street based on repentance and forgiveness. But it does free me from the weight of the offense.

On the flip-side, I am fearful of being too judgmental. Healthy judgment is important; a parent needs to correct a child who is making poor decisions. As an adult, we need to exercise good judgment regarding who we trust. But judgment becomes an overreach when we make uninformed assumptions about someone’s motives and choices. Instead, I choose to listen with open ears, hearing someone’s story about their time in prison or someone else’s addiction. This listening leads to more compassion. I also recognize that God’s forgiveness and promises are not just for me, but for the homeless person on the streets, the addict in my neighborhood, and for those who are imprisoned. The Bible is clear: how I judge others is how I will be judged. If I want God to show me mercy, then I need to show mercy to others. This mercy begins with open ears, an open mind, and an open heart.

I fear being prideful. I am an imperfect human who desperately needs Jesus. I can say unkind things, make poor decisions, and sometimes hurt other people’s feelings. I can also be selfish and self-serving. At these moments, I remind myself that I am insufficient, but I know a God who is all-sufficient. This simple truth helps me be humble enough to admit when I am wrong and when I come up short. I see this evident in my relationship with my adult children. I was a good mom, but I was far from perfect. Occasionally, they will bring up their experiences as a child in my home. Most of it is good, but sometimes I missed some important things that resulted in pain for them. I try not to defend my decisions but acknowledge their feelings and apologize. It’s hard, but even as adults, my children don’t need a perfect mom. They need a mom who is humble enough to acknowledge her mistakes and work on building a stronger relationship.

Finally, I have a healthy fear of God. For many years, this fear was unhealthy. I felt like the gopher in “Whack-A-Mole” waiting to be pounded for any slight mistake. That fear led me into a cyclical relationship of trying to please Him and always feeling like I fell short. I have exchanged that unhealthy fear for a fear based on knowing He is sovereign and in control. It’s more a sense of awe and respect. It motivates me to know Him more, and to accept His will. It’s also trusting that His way is always good. I no longer feel like God is looking for me to pop out of my hole so He can pound me. Instead, I believe He is there to comfort and support me.

Despite what happens in my nightmares, I no longer live in fear of my abuser. I no longer allow the fear I lived in as a child to control me. But I can choose to have healthy fears. These fears don’t limit me or cause me to tremble, instead they move me to action to live my life more fully in Christ.

“Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord.” Hebrews 12:14

It’s October, one of my favorite months. The bright sun magnifies the red, orange, and yellow leaves, painting the warm hues across the landscape. The days may be warm, but the temperatures drop in the evenings, making cozy sweatshirts, bonfires, and hot apple cider perfect ways to end the day. It seems the perfect time to read an Edgar Allen Poe story with a plush throw puddled in your lap. Pumpkins of all sizes, shapes, and colors accent doors and porches, while pumpkin spice infiltrates coffee, pies, and pancakes. October quotes abound including a new favorite of mine by writer John Nichols, “October is a hallelujah! Reverberating in my body year-round.”

But while some celebrate, there are also the naysayers who hate October or some elements of what the month signifies. Though many embrace pumpkin spice and everything nice, there is a large contingent of people who hate that flavor and share memes expressing their disgust. There are others who see Fall as a sign of the world dying and get either depressed or angry as the days get shorter. And probably the most contentious symbol of fall is the sugary confection, candy corn.

I love candy corn! I am not going to try to sell you on its flavor as it has little beyond the sweetness of candied sugar with a touch of vanilla and a hint of marshmallow. But this kernel-shaped candy lures me in every year. It is nostalgic for me, a candy that appeared in teacher’s bowls or parties during the month of October. And I am particularly partial to the corn shape, always rejecting the exact same candy in the shape of pumpkins. Despite its abundance on store shelves, many people despise it. But I am not alone; 35 million pounds of candy corn are sold every year, making me not as much of an outlier as one might think.

After some internet research, I found some interesting facts about candy corn. Along with Hershey, Peeps, and Reese’s, candy corn was first created in Pennsylvania where I live. In the 1880’s, farmers made up half of the American workforce. Candy companies decided to form candy in the shape of turnips, pumpkins, and corn to appeal to farmer’s children. Corn was not a vegetable many Americans ate, instead it was considered chicken feed. But the iconic tri-color candy caught on and became known as “chicken feed candy.” Before automation, it required people to work together to pour the syrup into the molds. And, until it was heavily marketed for Halloween in the 1950s, children snacked on it all year round.

Another candy that gets a lot of love during the month of October is Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. In the shape of ghosts or pumpkins, shelves are filled with this iconic American candy waiting to be handed out at doors to trick-or-treaters. Despite serious peanut allergies, it still finds itself in the number one or two spot in sales. It’s often considered everyone’s favorite, except for me. I am not allergic to peanut butter, and often will eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for my lunch. Granted, I upscale it with all-natural peanut butter and my own homemade freezer jam. I am not opposed to all chocolate and peanut butter combinations, loving energy bites and the occasional chocolate ice cream sundae with peanut butter topping. But I have never liked Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Based on the famous commercials, as a child I was enticed to take a Hershey bar and dip it into peanut butter, hoping to have a look of ecstasy cross my face like I had seen on TV. Instead, I found the combination lackluster. When I mention my dislike of Reese’s, gasps follow along with questions about my taste buds and my sanity. I just shrug and think this may not be the wisest time to mention my love for candy corn.

I recently saw a tea towel that made me laugh. The tea towel has nine pieces of candy corn with a word written on most of them. The words combine to form the sentence “You don’t have to be everyone’s favorite.” At first, I thought, I no longer need to convince everyone that candy corn is good, nor do I have to defend my choice to buy a bag of candy corn. But the more I thought about the statement, the deeper this simple truth resonated with me.

Like candy corn, I don’t have to be everyone’s favorite. And more importantly, I don’t have to compromise my boundaries or beliefs to stay in everyone’s good graces. For many years, I found myself trying to appease others and “fix” situations so that I would not be seen as offensive or difficult. In other words, I spent a lot of time pleasing others. I didn’t know how to express anger well or set healthy boundaries that protected me. And often I found myself becoming smaller, spending more energy pressing myself into a mold that I did not fit.

In the last two years, I have been learning to set healthier boundaries. I am learning that saying “no” is okay. I am learning to address times when I feel I have been treated unfairly or unkindly. I am learning to express anger in a healthy manner and am choosing not to grab the extinguisher every time a fire flares up in a relationship. And the weight of trying to manage other people’s emotions so they would like me has been lifted, giving me a sense of freedom I have never felt before.

A few months ago, I woke up to a series of texts alerting me to a post someone made on my social media. The post sarcastically maligned my character. This resulted in some drama, with those who love me standing up for me. My instinct was to ignore the incident, recognizing that hurt people try to hurt others. Instead, I opened a conversation with the person, who responded with an unwillingness to talk and more accusations. At this point, I would have cowered and made every effort to appease and apologize for something that I hadn’t even done. In the past, I was desperate to stay in their good graces by taking responsibility for something that wasn’t my fault. But three other people who love me well reminded me that I didn’t deserve to be treated like this. And that I should stand up for myself. I closed the conversation and moved on. I pray that, someday, we can come to some sort of closure. But this problem isn’t mine to fix.

I don’t have to convince everyone to like candy corn, or why my dislike of peanut butter cups is valid. I also don’t have to convince everyone to like me by changing who I am or taking responsibility for things that I don’t need to own. But this requires me to sit in a space where things can be uncomfortable, where I don’t respond to every text, and where I don’t have to fix everything. It requires me to pause, pray, and ask for God’s guidance. It’s finding the balance of being a Christian with pursing peace, long-suffering, and kindness in conjunction with the recognition not everyone is going to like me. And while it’s hard, it is also okay to not be everyone’s favorite.

“And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works.” Hebrews 10:24

I spent almost two weeks with my son and his family, celebrating Eva’s first birthday and creating memories. As I observed Ethan’s and Rachel’s parenting, I was struck once again with the fine balance parents must manage between a toddler’s budding sense of independence and their safety. All week, I heard from a persistent three-year-old, “I can sit in a big chair to eat my lunch, I can drink with the Peter Rabbit cup (the one with no lid), I can push a vacuum cleaner, I can scramble the eggs, I can hold the mixer all by myself….” Joel is determined to do the same things adults do but doesn’t quite understand his own limits. Yet, his parents patiently give him enough room to grow while keeping him safe. And this fine balance will continue to tip in his favor as he grows and develops.

Being independent is a sign of maturity, but we often ignore the fact that recognizing your limits amid independence is a stronger indicator of maturity. This sign of maturity manifests itself in the Christian life as well. We must develop our own walk with God marked with good habits and personal discipline while balancing that with being a part of a body of believers that helps us grow and develop. This principle of community is echoed throughout the Bible. God divided Israel into twelve tribes, so that they could function in small groups and still come together as a whole. Jesus called twelve disciples, not one person, to carry out the Great Commission. And these small group of disciples along with a few other apostles started small churches throughout the Middle East and beyond, who helped spread the gospel.

A few weeks ago, I once again experienced how a body of believers comes together to bless their community. A group of us came up with a vision to celebrate our children in a service. We invited a special speaker, Pastor Greg Marshall, who is gifted in ministry for both adults and children. We then came up with a few other ideas, including a puppet show, children leading worship, a skit, and ice cream sundaes to follow. What happened in the next few months was a beautiful example of everyone coming together to use their giftings to bring this service to fruition.

I am a “creative”, but I work best when collaborating with other creatives. I have no idea how to create promotional materials, I cannot sing, and I have never been a puppeteer. These limitations along with a finite amount of time put limits on what I can personally contribute to an event like our children’s rally. This is where others came to fill in the gaps, making a simple idea a richer vision. Promotional materials, working regularly with children in leading worship, a group of young people developing their acting talents in a skit, and spending hours decorating our foyer with whimsical clouds and balloon arches all contributed to making this event a success.

But collaboration works best with three key principles: humility, freedom, and ability to change. My friend Liane, who handles promotional materials, came up with a more concisely worded theme. She was hesitant to suggest it, not having much experience working with me before. But her theme was better, and I have learned not to hold anything too precious. When we are easily offended by other suggestions or hold too tightly to our own ideas, we lose out on valuable input. This input can find potential pitfalls with our ideas and/or help us clarify our vision. This is where humility comes in, recognizing that your ideas are not perfect, but that collaborating with others will help make the ideas stronger.

We must also be careful not to micromanage when we lead. Leading results in freedom and growth, while micromanaging produces frustration and bondage. I asked two young women to decorate the foyer for the event. Brittany and Lexi were both featured in my Discovering Joy series and have a proven record of creativity and design esthetic. They sent me pictures of their ideas and made the foyer an absolutely magical place for children. It was beyond what I had dreamed, and it created an atmosphere for children to feel special. Another woman, Karen, volunteered to put together some of the toppings for the ice cream sundaes. I would never have thought of gummy bears as a topping, but her intuition and experience with children were spot on. These confections were by far the favorites among the children I interacted with. I saw gummy bears on every child’s sundae!

Finally, we need to be willing to change. We had been practicing a skit for a couple of weeks, a modern-day version of Lot and Abraham deciding on which land to raise their flocks. It was filled with cowboy accents, Lamb-Fil-A, and triple espressos with goat milk. One of our leading actors, who carried out his role with humor, had a medical emergency two days before the event. We could have dropped the skit, but that would have minimized all the work everyone had put into the acting and props. We found someone else to fill in, who added his own sense of humor with ad libbed lines. He was willing to pivot with his own plans and fill in for us. The skit went on without a hitch, despite missing our original cast member.

Humility, freedom, and the ability to change, along with an incredible group of people who used their giftings, made this event a success. And once again, I was in awe of what had transpired from a simple idea. Time and time again, I have seen this recipe produce anointed events that minister to people. Peter reminds fellow believers in 1 Peter 4:10, “God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another.” Joel is learning to be independent, but I pray that he learns to be in a community of believers where they serve one another with their individual gifts.