Month: January 2016

I don’t feel brave.

I just don’t.

So when I attended the Original Conference in Rockford, IL last spring with a group of friends, the theme focused on bravery did not immediately feel like it applied to me. We heard stories of brave women conquering illness, fears, and infertility. We heard stories of incredible ladies who step out in their faith to establish and carry out ministries. We heard stories of women who saw the end goal even though it was at the end of a twisted and tumultuous road.

I don’t fit any of those descriptions. But the great thing is that I don’t have to. I don’t have to be overcoming something catastrophic or life-changing to actually be brave.

Webster’s Dictionary has several definitions for brave, with the most obvious:  having or showing courage; feeling or showing no fear. Other definitions allude to the bravery of the military, a showy banner, and even reference the American Indian Warrior. Then, when you start sifting through all the synonyms, words like dauntless, intrepid, and lionhearted stand out, embracing a sense of fearlessness.

I don’t completely agree with this definition.

Being brave does not necessarily imply an absence of fear. You don’t have to feel brave to be brave. The fear can still be there while you conquer it. Psalm 28:7 says, “The Lord is my strength and and my shield.” I can do brave things and be brave without feeling brave, knowing that my Lord is carrying me through it. I know this because I experience it frequently.

Last fall I went to The Splendid Retreat at a conference center in middle-of-nowhere, Wisconsin. It was a rare moment of bravery for me. I knew no one, and as I drove to the conference center, I felt my usual fears creeping in. Will they accept me? Will they see right through me? Did I fall for a scam and will I never see my family again???? (By the way, this was a running joke among the group prior to our arrival. We had a lot of fun with those jokes!) But as I drove, listening to one of my favorite songs, I prayed for God to be with me the next few days. And those fears faded into the background as I hesitantly hugged these women I barely knew by name. And this is just one of many examples. God carries me through moments of fearfulness every day.

He carries me through presentations at work, where even though I am confident about what I am presenting, I still get butterflies when I get up in front of my colleagues.

He carries me through my insecurities I have about my self-image and social anxieties, especially when I am at the gym or I start falling into the trap of comparison.

He carries me through tough conversations with people who don’t share my perspective on something.

Bravery comes in all shapes and sizes, depending on what you are facing. Thankfully, we are not facing our trials alone.  We can go ahead and be brave. Even if we aren’t feeling it.

 

To say that Ruth Wariner has a unique story to share is an overwhelming understatement. On Tuesday, January 5^th Flatiron Books will release The Sound Of Gravel: A Memoir by Ruth Wariner. I highly recommend snagging a copy here.

 

My husband and I lived in Phoenix for 7 years. When my we moved down there, a friend had shared an observation that we would notice a Mormon church situated in close proximity to just about every school in the East Valley. They were right. I didn’t know much about Mormonism when we moved there- just that there were specific beliefs they adhered to that did not exactly match up with Christianity. The Mormon church that I encountered was not the Fundamentalist Mormonism that Ruth Wariner grew up with. Far from it.

If you didn’t know that this was a memoir reliving Ruth’s incredible and devastating childhood, you might think this is a piece of fiction. You might even wish that it was fiction as Ruth recounts growing up in a polygamist colony, founded by her father, Joel LeBaron, who was a Mormon prophet. Her father, murdered by his brother, Ervil LeBaron when she was 3 months old, left behind several wives and countless children. When her mother married Lane, she unwittingly brought her family and future children into the presence of a pedophile.

Ruth tells her story, growing up in Colonia LeBaron, Chihuahua, Mexico, sharing insights into the polygamist compound, painting a picture of despair from the rundown shack she grew up in with her mom and siblings to the long stretches of being left alone with her siblings to fend for themselves.

To use some of the more cliche descriptors, Ruth’s story is gripping, riveting, mind-boggling, etc. Her writing takes you to her childhood, where you can feel the hot sun on your face, dusty from the dirt and gravel roads. I could practically feel the hunger she and her brothers and sisters experienced, subsisting on beans and bread alone. I felt my anger bubble up in moments when her safety and innocence were in jeopardy or violated. Her descriptive writing pulls you into her world, and it is absolutely devastating. The hope and faith Ruth displays throughout her life speaks to her absolute strength. I envisioned her journey from this life to her freedom as a long crawl out of the desolate wasteland into the promised land, free from Lane and all that came with him.

The glimpse into this world and the desperation to escape it makes this book worth the anguish and heartache you will surely feel as you devour Ruth’s words.