That Girl from Snowy River? Help My Unbelief

A few days ago I posted about wanting to be the girl that goes for it. Remember the necklace? Well, it should come as no surprise I’ve been called on it.

I had a disturbing dream last night. I think I know what it means, but maybe you can tell me what you think.

In my dream I am riding a horse bareback with a group of men. They ride saddles.

We reach the end point of our journey and before we tie the horses to rest, one of the men points out the trail we’ll take to return.

The trail is Man-from-Snowy-River steep and there’s a downed tree hanging across it that looks to be about neck height. I peer over the edge. It may be steep enough for me to pass under the tree, but the footing is dicey – deep, dry, powdery soil with large basketball size cobble embedded like punctuation points on the sharp curves in the trail.

I am terrified. First, it’s so very steep and the footing uncertain. Second, I wouldn’t choose to ride it in a saddle. I’m bareback. Third, I dare not miscalculate the amount of clearance under that tree.

I consider my options. I can flat out refuse. Go back the way I came, but I realize that decision will come with consequences I find untenable.

I can also just go for it and trust my horse, trust myself to keep from pitching over his ears. Trust God to guide us down safely. But I’ve wrecked before. I understand the cost of making the wrong decision. I don’t want to pay that piper again.

I briefly consider that the ride down wouldn’t last long and, if I make it, might even be exhilarating. I allow myself the possibility that I might say yes and really mean it.

But alas, I didn’t get the fearless gene. The one I got leads me to safety, or so I have always thought. It leads me to retreat to avoid devastation. It’s sometimes good, sometimes not.

I awake from the dream, but 12 hours later I’m still pondering the what ifs. What if I do and it ends poorly? What if I do and it ends well?

Last week, before I knew what it could mean, I wrote that I wanted to be:

“The girl who stands at the threshold of her unknown, who leaps into it, trusting.

I want to be that girl. So I will.”

I do want to be that girl. Do I? Yes, I do.

I think I know which trail I need to take. But I am fearful. Going back the way I came is not my path.

At the same time, I’m sure it’s not within me to go full-on Girl-from-Snowy-River, let alone believe I can do it.

All I can say is like that father in Mark 9:24, “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” You can pray for me if you will.

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I like going places: out West, west of the West, and all the way around the back of the globe to the East. I like to go by train, plane, automobile, horseback. Whatever. And I like writing about what I see, feel, hear, smell, and touch all along the way and once I get there.

8 thoughts on “That Girl from Snowy River? Help My Unbelief

  1. Girl from Snowy River, get going! When you are weak, God is strong. Scripture shows us over and over people who felt they were inadequate for the task. You’re in good company. Get back in the horse. I expect it will be an exciting journey. Praying for you now.

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      1. LOL…..I suspect I may have the same sort of journey in my near future. I’m learning as I get older that there is great satisfaction in doing scary things, though. (I know I was “supposed to” get less willing to do crazy things as I got older. It hasn’t happened to me, though! Now I just jump.)

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      2. I was just looking at Bringing It Out in the Light. I suspect you’d go over the edge before I do (may you’ve got that gene), but if I were a betting woman, I’d place money on my going for it. After I think about it a little more. Although I am also the girl who climbed the high dive ladder only to turn around and come back down!

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      3. I have lots of anxiety in my past. I’ve gotten over a lot of it. I got a strong logical gene from my dad and finally realized that the anxiety was holding me back from living life to the hilt. I also felt that I wasn’t trusting God enough. So I started to go for it a bit more. My mother would tell you I do it too much. Just this weekend she said to me “Just don’t jump out of a plane again.” 😂 I intend to, so couldn’t make that promise. I told her I just wouldn’t tell her if I did it, so she didn’t have to worry.
        That being said, I have also backed down the high dive ladder. Or tried to. My friends stopped me and blocked me on and wouldn’t let me retreat. I had to jump. It was the only option (other than looking down and getting more scared.) Surround yourself with a cheering circle of kind people. You’ll do all kinds of things you never thought you’d do.

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  2. We’ve all wrecked before in one form or another, or many. We carry the scars, yet here we are. We survived. I don’t suppose any of us want to pay those pipers again, either. But the alternative?

    For the better part of the last two years I’ve done everything I could to avoid the unknown path. I’ve stayed cloistered in my own cocoon, emerging briefly only for the known and trusted before retreating again. Until recently.

    I realized, with His grace, that my fears were just me. Me pushing parts of the past into the future, projecting where the new scars would deface instead of focusing on today, right now. I concentrated on the scars from my defeats.

    I forgot about the wrinkles untouched by scars. Wrinkles from the laughter and smiles of love, joy, and triumph. I have a tendency to minimize the wins and the times things worked out so much better than I ever thought they could.

    And while scars sometimes fade over time, wrinkles get deeper.

    You’re in my prayers.

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