Caution: Fragile

Someone once asked my dad what I was like as a child, and his response was ‘fragile.’ As much as I wanted to argue this and prove my bravery, the truth was I was fragile.

I was the little girl who was afraid of falling off the monkey bars. I was the little girl that would cry when the Chinese lion dancers came too close. I didn’t like roller coasters or scary movies- even Halloween was pushing it for me. God forbid I have to navigate my way and walk an unpaved road with lots of rocks. Streams of tears and walking across bridges came hand in hand. You could almost certainly guarantee that if it caused me any form of injury- big or small- I would definitely not be taking part.

My parents didn’t need to helicopter around me to ensure my safety, because I had already protected myself with more than enough bubble wrap. Nothing was going to break me. If I could stop myself from getting hurt, why wouldn’t I?

So for many years little Meg protected herself from physical pain. Then little Meg grew up and realized that I was finally tall enough for my feet to reach the floor while still holding the monkey bars. And that I didn’t have to be afraid of the Chinese lion dancers because they were just people with costumes. And Space Mountain wasn’t all that scary if I just closed my eyes.

I grew up and some of the things that once scared me didn’t scare me anymore. But that doesn’t mean I ever stopped being fragile…

While the rocks and bridges still scare me, they look a little difference for a 22 year old than they did for an 8 year old. God forbid I try to plan my future when I can hardly keep my feet grounded. Streams of tears come a lot more easily when there’s no hand to hold as I try to figure out the mess I’ve made of my life. The disappointment and the unknown, the fear of failure, and the loneliness- those are the injuries that hurt the most.

As I grew up, the amount of bubble wrap I needed to protect myself from physical pain decreased. I knew how to protect myself from cuts and scratches. But there’s no bubble wrap for things like sadness and confusion. I’m still learning how to protect myself from that.

In the meantime I’m praying. Praying that there’s far less rocks in the way and less bridges to cross over, or at least that the rocks aren’t so scary and that I won’t be alone on those bridges. I pray for clarity and strength. I pray for patience in the midst of so much waiting. I pray for reminders of God’s goodness when sometimes I forget how amazing He is. I pray to protect myself, because I know that God will never fail me.