So if you have not heard.....I got a tattoo.
So far I've been asked 2 questions....
1. Did it hurt?
Yes.
2. What's the deal with Brave <3?
I can't really answer that question very succinctly in the church foyer or over Easter lunch, but I'm so glad people ask and I don't mind sharing. I'm much better at articulating my thoughts in writing than I am at expressing myself with the spoken word....so here is the story behind the Brave <3 tattoo.
A couple years ago I realized that a lot of my sentences began with the words, "I'm afraid....." followed by varies fears that ranged from fear of hurting someone's feelings to fear of catastrophe and pretty much everything in between. I begin to actively examine why I was so afraid. I realized my first memory of real fear....besides watching the Wizard of Oz and seeing the Wicked Witch and her crazy monkeys......was when I was about 11 years old. My family received a terrifying phone call. My little cousin, my beautiful, sweet 8 year old cousin was kidnapped. I'm not going into the details, because it is not my story to share, but I will say it was terrifying. She was kidnapped by a stranger when she got off the school bus. After that happened I was very afraid to go outside. I was afraid to ride the school bus. I was afraid of being kidnapped. What was a very unlikely event, in my mind became a very real possibility. My cousin did live but what happened that day changed a lot of lives even a 12 year old girls. I knew fear. I knew monsters were real. I never really felt safe outside again, especially alone. Ever.
Then when I was in college fear came again. Without going into much detail I will just say that a very close relative was violently attacked by 4 men in the wee hours of the morning while she was doing a newspaper delivery for a friend of hers that was out of town. I got a phone call that woke me from a dead sleep. I lived in an apartment with this person during college and she was crying and telling me where she was and I was confused and scared. The men were arrested. They were tried and put in jail. However, I again realized how unsafe the world was. It was very unsafe. Disaster seemed to lurk around every corner.
About this time I became obsessed with crime TV. Forensic Files, Law and Order, 48 Hours and anything like it. I never knew why I was so intrigued with these shows but I watched them regularly at bedtime. Which is creepy....and I knew it was creepy....but I was really drawn to these shows for some reason. Years later my counselor told me she suspected I watched these shows in an effort to be prepared. I had been surprised by some bad and terrifying things in life and if I watched these shows enough and mentally covered all the possibilities I would be ready when tragedy came calling....I wouldn't be surprised.......except I wasn't....
When I was 25 and a young mother to Andrew, who was 3 and expecting Matthew...he died.....inside me....right before he was born. He was a fully formed baby. He had fingers, toes, hair......I had no idea that could happen. I was so unprepared. I wanted him. If a baby could die inside a healthy, young, white, American, middle class woman....was the world safe at all.....He died from a "random" knot in his umbilical cord. A few years after Matthew died.....Sophia was born. The doctors promised Sophia would not have a knot in her cord. That it was a random tragedy that happened with Matthew. Well Sophia did have a knot in her umbilical cord and she also had it wrapped around her neck twice. The doctor was wrong. God was in control. Not doctors. God allowed Matthew to die and Sophia to live. It was not random. What kind of God was this? My trust was growing but this God was terrifying. He was so unpredictable.
Every pregnancy was wracked with fear. Yet God protected the twins and they were born 5 years after Matthew died on exactly the same day, February 10. God was in control and not only that but he was in the details....and he loved me. He took a day that meant nothing to the world but everything to my broken heart and he redeemed it. This scary God was loving.
Then Audrey was born 6 weeks early with a fever. She was sick, very sick. I will never forget the absolute shock that came over me when the doctor came in shortly after she was born and informed us that they needed to do a spinal tap on our baby and see why she had a fever. They suspected it was because the doctor forgot to give antibiotics to me during the delivery and I was a Group B strep carrier. So I had passed that on to my tiny 6 week early baby girl. No Lord. Not her. Don't take my baby. I knew he could and he did allow babies to die. I was scared. But God did not take her. He let her live. In fact her birthday is in a few short hours! God is good.
And then my brother went off to the war in Iraq. Your baby brother in a war will do a number on you. Then one day my Dad called and told me Matt had been in an accident. His vehicle had run over an IED. He was being flown to Germany. He was alive but injured. It's all kinda a blur but healed and came home for a little while and won a purple heart and awards for valor.....and then he went back to finish his tour. I couldn't believe he went back. He was home. He was safe. He didn't have to go back. He went back. That is the kind of guy he is. He finished his tour. I was so proud of him and I was so scared. However, he came home. God protected his life.
By now I was fully immersed in the busyness of motherhood. I was busy and afraid. Afraid kidnappers lurked outside my house and regularly cruised our cul de sac. Afraid of my kids being hurt. Afraid they would die. When Andrew was diagnosed with Premature Ventricular Contractions that originated in an unusual part of his heart I was petrified. It could be something he outgrew or it could be something that may cause issues and require treatment. We could only watch and only wait and see. Talk about terror. I knew the world was not safe. I just had to wait. Those crazy heartbeats that happened every 3 beats when he was a 4 year old child disappeared when he was about 15 as quickly and randomly as they appeared. My fear changed nothing but robbed me of a lot of sleep and peace. God was in control. I was not.
Yet God persisted in showing me how little control I had. Randy was a project manager for a builder when the market crashed. He lost his job. It was an unsettling time. I was a stay at home mom with 5 young children. My husband did not have a job and was looking for a job and the building market had just entered into the deepest recession since the Great Depression. Nobody was hiring builders or project managers....nobody. It was 7 long months of unemployment. But God used that time to teach me he was in control and he loved me. He would provide for us in that time through the generosity of others in the most unusual and creative ways. We were given bags of clothes regularly. We were given gift cards and groceries and money. We even won a shopping spree at a shoe store when our kids needed shoes. Our neighbors even gave us a car during this time. God did not abandon us. God did not forget us. He provided for us lavishly. God grew my faith and trust in him as I realized I could do nothing but rest in him. I could not fix this. Yet he could be trusted.
Through all of this God has wooed me and taught me that I can trust him. So the Brave is not because I am brave but it is just a reminder that I can be brave. I don't have to be afraid. I KNOW now that God does allow tragedy and sorrow and bad stuff but I KNOW he only allows it if he names it good and to bring himself glory. So I can trust him. The heart is to remind me that he loves me. He has been faithful. He has not kept everything safe and secure but he has been there every single step of the way. Everything he does he does out of his great love for me. So no, I don't really have a brave heart but I'm learning to not be afraid. I'm learning to trust a loving God and to let go of living in fear. I'm learning to speak the truth and not be afraid of having a thought or an opinion or a belief.
So.....I started thinking about this tattoo a loooonnng time ago. I told myself I didn't need to get a tattoo. This could all be true without a tattoo. So I debated whether or not to get it. I did not want to aid in the delinquency of youth. Sophia was so excited about me getting a tattoo she thought that meant as soon as she turned 18 she could get one. I guess she can. I hope she won't. I did that too. Got a tattoo when I was 18....and I hate it. So kids....take it from me....wait......wait longer then you want. You can always get a tattoo...... I told Sophia she could get one when she is 43! I put a lot of thought into this tattoo and asked Randy if he cared. He was fine with it. I love my tattoo I love the visual reminder. When I look down, which I do when I'm feeling insecure I see it. It is a reminder of who He is and what He has done and it reminds me to speak and to share Him with others. I can be brave because he can be trusted.
That is why I insisted on the tattoo facing me. The tattoo artist said it was considered backwards. I told him the tattoo was for me, not for others, so I needed to be able to read it.
However, having some random word on my foot seemed a bit weird....but then I thought how cool it would be if it was in my Mama's handwriting. Then I could still have her handwriting with me when I didn't have her. When I had that idea I really got excited about having the tattoo. You see my Mama is brave too. So Mama wrote Brave and drew a heart and the tattoo artist made a stencil from it and then traced it onto my foot.
So that it what my tattoo is about!
Thanks for asking!
