Fear of the False
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We lived on a house on a hill. A small hill, but a great one for so many things only a child could appreciate. It was the perfect little hill for sledding, running, rolling, and riding a bike. Small enough to be mostly safe, but big enough to still produce those wonderful butterflies that make you feel alive.
One day in particular, I was playing a game with myself to see how quickly I could lap our little one acre lot that made this country girl so happy. I rode my bike as quickly as I could down the hill, around our big red shed, through the backyard, and again to the front. Only to go faster and faster down the hill each time.
Somewhere amongst the laps, I began to pretend I was being chased. The faster I went, the more vivid the imagery became. Until at one moment, I glanced behind me, and as clear as I can ever remember imagining anything, saw a huge desert caravan like the one you’d see in some sort of Indiana Jones-esque movie chasing after me. Camels, horses, brightly colored fabrics, swords drawn right on my tail as I rounded the corner. Suddenly this amazingly fun game became terrifying. Fun turned to fear in a moment.
Now, I must stop you right here.
And tell you that I am no stranger to imagination. I was in fact one of those kids who had an imaginary friend for years. Her name was Cindy; she lived with Miss Piggy in a big pink farmhouse a few miles down the road; and we loved to sing and dance to Madonna. However, of all the crazy wild adventures my mind would create out of sheer imagination, the big pink farmhouse was actually not one of them. There really and truly was a big, pink farmhouse just passed my country road with perfect white detailing in all the right places that made it look just like the most flawless dollhouse (or homestead for Miss Piggy and my best friend Cindy).
Now back to fear of the false…
So now that we’ve established that I am no stranger to a wild imagination, let’s get back to the original childhood story that got me thinking about fear in the first place…as I said suddenly, in the blink of an eye, fun turned to fear due to something I thought I saw. Some crazy scenario dreamed up in my mind. And do you know what I did next? I pumped the breaks. I slowed down, and then I chose to quit. I was rattled. That felt too real. Too scary. Too dangerous.
What is my point?
How many things have we imagined in our minds even as adults that have us pumping the breaks or even quitting all together? What scary scenarios have we created that have us frozen by fear. Fictitious plots that exist merely in the mind. Wildly vivid, and yet completely unreal. Nonexistent. Untrue. Created, but not experienced.
You see where I’m going?
Friends, take it from a girl with a wild imagination from way back, do not let the scary things you have conjured up in your head stop you from acting on things you were made to do. Cause you to quit. Keep you paralyzed. Being a dreamer can both propel and hinder depending on the dream and what we do with it. While dreaming up things in our mind can be this amazing catalyst for change, it can conversely be the thing that keeps us from ever really going for it. We see the metaphorical desert caravan and halt. We give into to the fear of the false.
So dream, friend. Imagine. But, if you find that some of the dreams have become merely created storylines in your head, instead of actual truth. Don’t stop! Keep pedaling. Stay in the game and finish the race you were created to run.
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I hope you enjoyed my post Fear of the False. Once again Mama In The Midst contains affiliate links. I receive a small commission from purchases at not cost to you. As always, I appreciate you!! Thanks for clicking around!!