Coraggio was the theme of my breakfast with some friends this morning; coraggio is the Italian word for courage and this is something these particular friends are always encouraging in my life and this morning was no exception. I thought about this as I drove home to my parent’s house, what it means to be courageous, to live a brave life. I thought about how for the last few weeks and maybe months it has felt like I have been drowning, overwhelmed by life, the pain of it and the uncertainty, the responsibility and the sheer exhaustion of the everyday. I have being trying so hard to keep my head above water, to stay strong, to keep going but inside I have been drowning, struggling to hang on. And in the midst of this, almost right on cue, my old friend fear came along to play. And play he did, whispering those old familiar words in my ear; to run, to give up, to go back to what I know to be really true- that I am alone, abandoned. The same words that sent me to New Zealand in a quest for a new life, the same words that told me not to love but to protect myself, that told me that God is nowhere to be found, that this is a forsaken world. The same words that send me in a tailspin, that make me bunker down and do it all by myself. Convince me that I am the only person who can keep all my balls in the air, that if I just keep juggling, keep moving, everything will be ok. And suddenly the old familiar urge to run starts to kick in, to get away, to disappear, to start again, someplace else, someplace safe. So I revert back to type, finding solace in whiskey and wine, knowing deep down there is a better way; that I have been down this road before. But when fear has its grip, it can be so hard to see straight, to untangle the mess, to believe that there can ever be a different way.
But as I sat in work last week, overwhelmed by feeling lost, drowning under the weight of my sorrow and fear and wondering how I would ever come back from the orbit I was in, I had this image appearing before me of arms sweeping me up and holding me close. Rescuing me from the over powering waves, sheltering me from the onslaught. And for a very brief moment I felt peace, my soul momentarily felt rest.
As I drove home today I remembered this image and I thought about that word courage; coraggio, and what it really means. I began to wonder if maybe to be courageous is to ask for help, to tell someone how you are struggling, to realise you don’t have to cope all by yourself. To accept that there can actually be moments of joy in the midst of pain, to accept that in this broken world there can be rejoicing. To stop waiting for the next disaster, for everything to trip you up. To believe that you won’t just be ok, but that God has good plans for your life, plans to prosper and not to harm you. Sometimes being courageous means to just stop and stand still; to trust even when the storm rages around you, to look up instead of inward. To accept that you don’t have to have all the answers. To be courageous sometimes means to keep learning this same lesson over again. To face your fears and believe in a better tomorrow, to fight for the things you want and the people you love but know that it is ok to fail, to accept that perfect does not exist. To let yourself fall, even if it means getting hurt, to love without limitations. To not believe the whispering lies of fear. To believe you are not alone and never abandoned.
Courage for me, means instead of running away, to run home, like the prodigal daughter, to the arms of a father who loves me, who will not forsake me. Who will wait no matter how far I run, who will seek no matter how hard I try to hide, whose words whisper peace and give rest to my weary soul, whose perfect love drives out all fear, whose home is eternal and whose love is never ending.
Coraggio means letting go and daring to trust.
Written September 17th 2017
ilooktothehills 