Panic in Three Acts

What to do when you feel like panicking, I guess.

I

Before leaving Spain for a long stint in the states a few years ago, we planned a family trip to Madrid to eat Spanish tortilla and go to a bakery we like. My husband and I were discussing if we would take the metro to the restaurant after parking near the bakery, or if we would just walk from the parking garage. I silently checked the map on my phone and then announced to my husband, “I think we’ll just walk.” Suddenly, my son, who had not been listening to the first part of our discussion, looked up, tears forming behind his glasses, and shouted in a panicky voice, “to Madrid?!”

Already this trip to the city was only worth it for my son because of the potential for baked goods. He tolerates tortilla de patata but he hates walking city streets. The poor kid thought we were going to walk all the way to Madrid, instead of driving or taking a train.

II

We arrived in the States for our first home assignment, jetlagged and hungry, and checked into our hotel room only minutes before the first session of our conference. My suitcase accidentally got locked, and didn’t know how to unlock it if I never set a code. We searched for a video showing how to break into your own suitcase, and the guy giving the tutorial started with a list of needed items: pen, screwdriver, and torch. My eyes widened and I looked at my husband, alarm etched on my face: “A torch?!” I had forgotten that’s what the British call flashlights, and at that moment, melting my way into my suitcase was just too much.

Thankfully, no need to panic: we just weren’t pushing the button the right way, so we didn’t have to light my suitcase on fire to get into it.

III

Exactly six months later, at the end of our home assignment, a new kind of panic set in. During our time in the States, between church visits and reconnecting with our partners, we enjoyed fresh blackberries, the hospitality of many, a long Indian summer, doing life with dear friends, and holiday celebrations with family. But one month away from our residency-imposed travel deadline, my husband and I began to feel panicky and unreasonable. Gas was simultaneously cheaper and more expensive (it costs less per gallon but we used way more) than in Spain. We still had over a thousand dollars per month to raise in support, and no idea how it would be raised. My husband was still working remotely, conducting interviews with potential school directors in the middle of the night. We scheduled churches out of state right up to the week we were leaving. Due to the travel schedule, our kids were just squeaking by in homeschool, and I was feeling guilty that another road trip would interrupt their studies. But there we were, asleep on our feet, packing for a quick trip to Oregon, when snow began falling in Western Washington for the second time.

A month before, the first snow that winter blew in like a gift in the mail—it surprised us, brought with it joy, gratitude that our lodgings were located way up north, and the chance to make holiday memories.

Just the Advent we Need

The second time it snowed revealed something, however: creativity is a luxury for those who are not panicking. I barely slept that night, imagining unnavigable roads, canceling the trip, losing the opportunity to share our ministry with people, canceling our flight to Spain, losing residency…the spiral continued, even as the snow tapered off and melted, leaving bare roads.

IV

Panic is sometimes forced to recede in the face of truth: we’re not walking to Madrid, we don’t have to light the suitcase on fire to open it, the snow has melted. In those moment, I feel silly for succumbing to the desperation. What a waste of a cortisol injection, I think to myself as my heart rate comes down after elevating for no reason at all.

Yet sometimes we are forced to carry on in the face of panic, to go through it, survive it, and find out what good is on the other side of it. On that trip to Oregon, we visited two churches and spoke with the pastors of one more. We connected with old friends and shared our ministry countless times. One of the churches partnered with us and the other gave us a positive response. The parents of my dearest college friend hosted an event with several friends, and all of them joined our team.

Yet sometimes we’re forced to carry on in the face of panic, to go through it, survive it, and find out what good is on the other side of it.

As we drove back north, however, we still didn’t have the amount we needed, and we had five hours to discuss the dichotomy of our very successful ministry trip and the remaining lack of funds. Would we panic, or would we trust God to provide for our needs in the next two weeks? Eager to take advantage of the car time, I wanted to shepherd them with the right perspective, even as I was tempted to languish in my disappointment. We decided to focus on what God had done on the trip: new supporters, new connections. Home assignment wasn’t over, after all. As we left Oregon, a rainbow appeared in the sky, and I asked the kids, as I always do, what does the rainbow mean? “God will never flood the earth again,” they said. “God always keeps his promises,” they chanted. I exulted, I admit. That rainbow ministered to my heart, and I felt that God was showing us that he would bring the support that we needed. It brought me deep peace, and I said so.

Then the lone voice of our son, dropping a truth bomb: “But God never promised us full support.”

The rest of that story is told here, in our ministry newsletter.

V

A screenshot of a tweet I once saw that has proved useful is my life was someone quoting their therapist: “Ma’am, you do not have enough information to panic about this yet.” The person tweeting had prefaced the quote, “when your therapist is everyone’s therapist.” If this therapist has more gems like that, I’d like to carry her around in my pocket. She is simultaneously all the most useful people I’ve ever met in my life. In the “ma’am” I hear a no-nonsense middle school teacher I once had. You know the ones—they’re charged with guiding actual children to master adult-sized tasks like keeping an agenda and writing professionally-worded emails to teachers. With that “ma’am,” I am respectfully invited to reconsider my present instinct, which is, of course, to stop breathing, throw my hands in the air, and give up on everything. In the “you do not have enough information,” I hear the voice of a practical and kind nurse who calmed me before one of my children went in for a test. And in the small but mighty “yet,” an adverb that signifies enormous expectation, I hear a compassionate grandma, friend, or yes, therapist, acknowledging the possibility that there may yet be a reason to panic, but it has not revealed itself. Panic is just your body screaming, “emergency!”

Sometimes your body is wrong. It’s not bad, it is mistaken, and it needs to be righted, usually with truthful words, deep breathing, maybe a little stretching, sleep, tears, and prayer.

Spiritual maturity will also bring about trust that even if things go wrong—even if the panic is justified—God is still good, still sovereign, still loving. God has all the information, and God never has an emergency. Sometimes we panic anyway, because we’re human, but we can carry on knowing that God isn’t also panicking, but carrying us through our circumstances.

some confetti

:: Why Christians Won’t Stop Singing: “Despite all the diversity of the world religions, there are really only two kinds. There’s the religion of Do and the religion of...”

:: How to make Friends as an Adult—at Every Life Stage: this article, which I read the old-fashioned way over a couple of days, was extremely encouraging.

:: October is both Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month¹. “Notes on a Miscarriage” is a moving piece, it brought me to tears while also speaking to my literary heart.

shop & empower

:: It’s time to start thinking about holiday shopping, and I will shout from the rooftops my love for fair trade goods. My heart belongs to Trades of Hope but my goal is to encourage everyone to shop ethically. Here’s a post I update frequently with ethical shopping brands.

Trades of Hope always asks, “Can accessories end poverty? No, but the women who make them can!” I’m not saying we can never use Amazon, but I feel strongly that if we replace things like bags, home accessories, and jewelry with fair trade products, we’ll make a difference both in terms of sustainability (because you might buy less often), and by supporting businesses that provide a living wage for their employees.

People love to get a good deal on a fancy leather bag, like a green Kate Spade bag that was a recommended Prime days purchase by Real Simple. But the brand has a “not good enough” rating for its care of the planet, animals and people. :(

Safe and fair working conditions are paramount, and we can make better choices by buying second hand and fair trade products as often as possible. Check out, for example, the Evergreen Handbag (also available in navy blue). It’s bigger and it’s on sale right now. More importantly, every purchase helps provide fair-trade jobs and build schools in areas of extreme poverty in India.

There are also so many ways you can make a difference with your fall decor this year, swapping cheap plastic for heirloom wood and porcelain.

My partnership with Trades of Hope is more than just sharing affiliate links, though I do get a kickback when you shop these links. You can sign up for ToH Rewards to earn points for every dollar you spend. I’ve made one small order this year (#expatproblems) and already have $5 to spend! Or, host a party *online* with me and you can get an exclusive discount and coupons to share with your guests.

1. It’s also Fair Trade Month and Breast Cancer Awareness Month so if you’re saturated with content screaming, “I’m IMPORTANT!” I am sorry to have contributed to that.