Bear Hunt

I remember a book from when I was younger, when Tamera would read books out loud to us.  

There are a few I distinctly recall, mostly because of the animated way she read the words.  I didn't even remember the pictures for this particular children's book.  But I remember the way she read it.  The same way each time.  Like a chant.  Magic in these words, I think.  Magic in the way they dig their roots into your memory.

"We're going on a bear hunt, we're gonna catch a big one."

"What a beautiful day! We're not scared."

"Uh-oh!  A river!  A deep cold river.  We can't go over it.  We can't go under it."

"Oh no!  We've got to go through it!"

Judah was a month old on Saturday.  The first month of his life has been the sweetest, most challenging, deeply emotional month of my life.  The first month of pregnancy coming in at a close second.

There are things I was sure would get better.  Uncertainties I was certain would be resolved.  I didn't think it would all magically "get better", and I was not under the impression anything would be easy.  But there is a weight on me now that wasn't there before.  And I'm getting stronger.  I think I can carry it.  But there are some things I would like to lay down.

I said it out loud for the first time the other day.  Realized it as I said it.  The sound of the words to my own ears brought an understanding I hadn't yet had.  

I don't want to hurt him.  

I mentioned this before.  I want to protect him.  I want to put off the weight and danger of this world as long as I possibly can.  But in saying that, in putting that thought onto paper, I realized I was the one responsible.  The greatest hurt he may ever feel... will be my fault.  

And I don't know how to make it better.

I've been facing a lot of realities head on.  I've been learning how to function on less sleep.  I'm coming to terms with stretch marks.  Graciously nodding and smiling when people say "you look great for having just had a baby!" And I wonder what that even means.  Learning how to do things with one hand, take two minute showers, and sleep with one eye open.  I am learning to do what I have to do, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how sad it makes me.  And I am learning to stand up for myself.  A lioness, my mom called me.

No one has any idea.

Talking about the hard things, I am crying because I don't want people to think I don't love my son.  Truth is, I wouldn't trade him for anything.  I wouldn't change a thing if it meant I didn't get to have him.  He is who has fixed the brokenness.

So when facing the hard things last week, a familiar chant whispered behind my ear.

Can't go over it... can't go under it...

The rest of the book, "We're Going On A Bear Hunt" takes the characters to, and through, obstacles.  One after the other.  They stop... but they can't get over it, around it, or under it.  

They have to go through it.

Every time.  

I am on a bear hunt.  And there are rivers and gates and boulders and mountains and big, open fields.  And for some reason, they seem scarier than the bear I'm hunting.  So scary, you forget you're after a bear.

Don Miller posted a blog the other day about this very thing.  Eventually, it seems, if you continue to move around, over, under the fear, rather than through it, the fear itself is never resolved.  You have to say "I am afraid". 

Tonight, I'm doing another hard thing.

The last time I did something of it's nature... it broke me.  

It is still there.  The fear.  And I am still feeling it. I am afraid.  

But these hard things, you can't get over them.  You can't get around them.  You can't go under them.

You have to go through them.  

And like Don says, that's the way we build character.  That's how the story changes us.

"We're going on a bear hunt.  We're going to catch a big one.  What a beautiful day!  We're not scared...."

I'm going on a bear hunt.