on PTES and Holy Water - thoughts that may save your life

I've fallen behind on Blogtember which means I keep meaning to jump in and I keep not because of that whole vocation thing. So, here we go. I thought I'd get out Friday's topic before Monday started!

Friday, September 5: A story about a time you were very afraid 



It might be easier to list a time I wasn't scared. I've diagnosed myself with Post Traumatic Entertainment Syndrome. I was scarred by my parents' love of horror movies and their letting me watch them at a young, impressionable age (PS. I don't really blame my parents. I'm a wuss, as previously discussed on this blog.).

Remember that time I was swimming at night in a seemingly perfectly safe swimming pool and my shadow ate me? You may not, but it was documented in The X-Files.

What? Your shadow isn't PacMan's cousin with ferocious, jagged teeth, and fins that slice through water at speeds unknown to any man except the one about to be eaten - namely, me?

Sidenote for the moral: never google "image of woman swimming at night in a lit-up pool." The results won't be as wholesome as some might think. Ahem.


Going into the ocean at a depth that reaches above my knee is absolutely on the "Things To Never Do" list I have. Also, deep sea fishing. Thank you, Jaws 1, 2, 3, and 4.

(Times that baby by four, my friend, and that would equal an ion of what my fear of knee-high ocean water is.)

I will never, ever, ever put a TV in my bedroom thanks to the creepy little blonde girl announcing that "they're heeeeere" in Poltergeist. I might also never befriend a midget because of this movie. It's nothing against y'all, it's really because of me.

My heart is racing as I type and I'm abbouta bust in some TV screens.

I'll never skydive because I've seen the beginning of The Dark Knight Rises. I would be the lucky recipient of a mega-terrorist attack.

I don't think I need to explain myself any further.

I'll never go on a cruise because we all know what happened to the Titanic. Give me desert or give me my own personal rowboat, lifejacket, and flare (and dramamine for good measure). I'm not going.

Behold: my oceanic demise.

*Apparently most of these deal with the ocean. I'm a big fan of solid ground, y'all.*

I keep holy water by my bedside table for reasons beyond that my spiritual director suggested each person form the habit (see: Signs and the little girl's propensity of leaving glasses of water everywhere. That's me and my holy water, folks.). This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. I seriously do fear the demons that try to tempt us to sin and so should you!


That being said, I probably need to see a psychiatrist (not about the demons - they're real!).

THAT being said, I'm trying to think of a time I was seriously, disgustingly, stomach-churning scared. The first that comes to mind is M's birth but I guess that all happened so fast that it was less scared and more of a "what...the...heck...is going on?" I'd imagine Mr. B might write about it should he answer this question, though. It affects him to this day.

After thinking about it some more (and discarding all those times I convinced myself that Mr. B had gotten into a fatal wreck because he hadn't answered his phone or that one of my kids had a rare form of bone cancer), I think the most scared I've ever been was when our baby girl, at only two and a half was being sedated to have her cavities filled.

Seriously? Thanks be to God that's as scared as I've been. But hear me out on this one.

She has a congenital heart defect (I should have been more scared upon finding out about it, but I had just given birth and hadn't slept in roughly three months, so it's a haze. A very tired, coffee-driven haze.). It's a minor murmur, but enough to drive a paranoid mama over the cliff. We have to note it on doctor visits and dental records because things like anesthesia are more difficult and apparently more dangerous. I was a basket case with a leaky valve during her procedure. My poor husband. She came out of everything fine and was under the care of wonderful doctors and a fantastic, gentle anesthesiologist the entire time, but I was terrified. Her little heart murmur is still a mystery to me. At her last cardiologist appointment, her doctor told us that her hole was getting smaller, but that had been a year before. I always worry that something will go wrong with it and it wasn't healing like we were told (Captain Paranoid, to the rescue!) and something as simple as sedation will turn deadly.

Underneath that lovely exterior lies a fairly peaceful interior that knows that Our Most Blessed Lord is in charge of everything and that His intricate plan weaves into patterns my simple mind and simple faith can't even begin to comprehend. I think that's probably the reason I don't get scared of anything beyond my own shadow (see: above) - I think we've had plenty of opportunities for legit fear, but we know that Divine Providence has a greater love for us than any we could give to ourselves.

Unfortunately, that knowledge in my head doesn't always translate into faith into my heart, which is why you won't catch me swimming at night, in water over 18 inches high, during the cruise from my nightmares. And why I don't hesitate to keep holy water everywhere to battle the slew of very real and very scary and very dangerous demons that hang out all over this big, wide world. And I'm not afraid to bust a Joaquin Phoenix in their faces to get them away from our little family.

Swing away, Joaquin, swing away. After you make the Sign of the Cross.

So, as far as legit fears go, dealing with the thought of losing a loved one, particularly my beloved husband or precious little girls, haunts me. As far as completely absurd fears go, I've got them by the baker's dozen.

How about y'all?