What Fear Sees

When you look at life through the lens of fear, you see things other people might miss. Or you might see things that aren't there at all.

I was reminded again just how powerful fear is in Cupcake's life. It always sits just below the surface, only to be awakened in an instant.

Wednesday night, I was driving the girls home from church on a major thoroughfare (4 lanes, 50 mph, limited access highway with stoplights). Suddenly, we came upon a man pushing his car off the road – slow, faintly lit emergency flashers, but no lights. He was backed against the car with his eyes facing the traffic from behind (so he could jump out of the way when someone didn't see him.) I hit my brakes and put on my flashers so no one behind me would cream him. I leaned out the window and asked if he needed a push. He said, "No, but I could use a jump start."

In a split second, I surveyed the scene (he looks like a regular dad, it's directly under a streetlight, there's lots of traffic, it's a good part of town, his teenage daughter is in car, I've got my cell phone, it's definitely his battery) and decided to help.

(Note: I am not in the habit of helping men with car trouble at night without Steve. It's never happened before and will probably never happen again.)

As I slow down to pull off, Cupcake starts to wind up.
 
"MOM! What are you doing?!?!"

"MOM! KEEP GOING!"

"Calm down Baby. It's going to be all right."
{Crying, Wailing, Yelling}

"Baby, you've got to trust me."
"MOM! GET.US.OUT.OF.HERE!!!

"O-O-O-H-H-H!!! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY WHOLE LIFE!!!!! WHAT IF HE STEALS YOU?!?!?!"

"He is not going to steal me, Honey."
It was an adrenaline rush, for sure. I was hyped up on high alert. I was more concerned with turning my car around on the highway, so my engine could face his. Then there were the crazy yahoos that didn't slow down or move over. YIKES!   Sugar was ever vigilant while we were stopped. She had my cell in her hand, ready to dial 9-1-1. She had written down his license plate number. That's my girl! J

We tried a jump start but his battery was completely dead. Then his wife came. So he thanked us and we left.

When we got home, Cupcake let me know how furious she was. Stomping and storming and yelling. Wild-eyed anger. She was keyed up like I have never seen her. She kept asking me why he was jumping like that. (I didn't see him jumping.)   And why were his hands behind his back? And how did I know he was a good guy? And what if I was wrong? He looked like a bad guy. What if he was a bad guy? And what would happen if he did take me? And what if he took Sugar? What if she was all alone? Who would help her?

Oh, dear me.


But why was Cupcake so sure he was a bad guy?


Finally, I made the connection. He was leaning against the back of his car to push it. His hands were against the trunk and he was pushing with all his might. What I saw as a man who was desperate to get his car off the road before he got killed, while she saw as an escaped convict wriggling to break out of handcuffs.

Oh.

We had a l-o-n-g talk that night. It was good. J I have needed to reassure her several times since then that I will not be stopping to help men with car trouble. I also learned to stop and listen to her heart. She is an expert at being sensitive to any sign of danger.   Sometimes I should listen.


But, you know the best part?

The worst day of her life would be the day that I wasn't in it.

She said so. And that makes my heart happy. J

Blessings to you,
Mamita