Driving Through Fear

A good friend of my – a really good friend, for a really long time – the kind of friend who forgives you when you are thoughtless and/or make mistakes – once loaned me a book entitled Feel the Fear And Do It Anyway. [At least I think that was the title. And I think I returned it. I hope so.]

I thought of that book when I prepared to go visit her for Thanksgiving. The weather forecast was terrifying – snow, ice, wind-- and she lives about 140 miles away.

I know that she didn’t quite understand why I was coming down (she lives south) on Thanksgiving Day (and not before) and returning home the following Saturday (instead of later). After all, I’m retired. I should be able to come and go whenever I please. Right. I am chairing a major community group and participating in a writers group and quite active in my congregation.

Plus, I’m significantly older than she (and many others). At this age, much of every week is consumed by appointments with caregivers of various kinds – doctors, physical therapists, Pilates instructors, dentists, and the wondrous people who help make my hair and nails and skin presentable.

And looming Christmas preparations.

Nonetheless, despite weather conditions and my own terror, I packed my toothbrush and drove south.

It was slow going but I made it. The Thanksgiving feast was amazing, the time with my friend, a treasure. And the trip home not quite as scary.

When weather conditions improved I took my car to the carwash. It deserved it.

 I deserved it. I had felt the fear but done it anyway. Hooray!