Human Care Department:

Cindy Zattich, Vice President - HumanCare@lwml-ned.org

The Human Care department encourages sensitivity in women toward those who are hurting and in need.  We provide resources and encouragement to enable knowledgeable and Biblical comfort to themselves and others.

The Human Care Committee alerts members to the opportunities and challenges for mission service in the congregation, zone, district and community; it also encourages active participation in and provide materials and suggestions for a mission service program. We work with the LCMS-NED based missionaries with regard to maintaining a list and status. If needed, render courtesy service to incoming and outgoing missionaries and their families.

Cindy's Archive of Articles:

Jimmy Walk - September 2008
Rite of Passage - February 2009
Reaching Out When a Pet Dies - October 2009

“Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You”*
 
At church recently we did an LWML Bible study on living in the light.  And several women talked about how they were really afraid of the dark.  Literally.  Fearful since childhood.  I realized that didn't describe me, but what was I afraid of?  What scares me?
 
Well, I cannot stand failing at something.  I am mortified and terrified of failing and looking inept.  And having other people witness it.  I am hugely competitive.  And I am prideful!
 
No one would ever call me a daredevil.  I don't crave an adrenaline rush.  I wake up wired and stay away from coffee until afternoon!  I feel most competent when I'm calm and doing things I'm already good at.  I like things that showcase mastery—things I can practice by myself and get the hang of.  Like words.  Like art.  Like golf.
 
Do you seek calm, or do you seek more thrill?  Going fast.  Doing things that make your heart race.  Taking some risks.
 
There is a fine line between being afraid to try something because you'll look like a beginner (when over time you might enjoy getting good at whatever) and being afraid of just scaring yourself out of your mind without any chance of fun at all—ever.
 
Enter the bicycle.  Not your old Schwinn with the springs under the seat but one like Lance Armstrong's!  One where your feet will not slip off of the pedals because your are “locked” onto them.  You wear special cleated shoes and have to learn how to clip in and out intentionally for stopping or starting—or you WILL fall over and meet the pavement.
 
My husband, who has near perfect balance and coordination, got a bike like this and loved it from the start.  I hesitated but observed cyclists everywhere in New England, and they seemed to be having a good time and remaining upright.  They'd obviously managed those pedals.  I decide to get a bike.
 
Now for me the bicycle blends both kinds of fear:  looking inept as well as taking the real chance of scaring and breaking myself.  And it's bizarre and hard to motivate yourself to what may well be falling down pain and humiliation as you PRAY your learning curve will be a short one.
 
Let me jump ahead and say I mastered the pedals over many weeks but not without falling (mostly from a near standstill) a handful of times.  I now carry an obvious red scar on one knee and still feel I must be vigilant and aware always.
 
And let me add that I live at the very top of one of the highest hills around—it's 4/10 of a mile straight up like a parking garage, with the very steepest part at the very end.  For so many rides, I would load my bike into my car and meet my husband a mile away in a parking lot (he pedaled there) so I wouldn't have to terrify myself going down and up our hill.
 
(If it wasn't the vision of hurtling out of control on the way down, it was the vision of not being able to pedal up at the ride's end.  Losing leg strength partway up, falling over somehow, and being unable to start again on the upslope.)
 
This ate at me, this challenge.  It paralyzed me yet I was compelled to overcome it.  I wanted to but felt I couldn't!  I was obsessed with my fear.
 
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, you will hear a voice saying, “This is the way; walk in it.'”
(Isaiah 30:21)
 
August 14, my birthday, I got out of bed knowing—it HAD to be today.  I couldn't stand the tension.  And I needed to do it alone. No one could do it for me.  Or with me.
 
I got down the hill by repeating over and over “Jesus is with me, Jesus is with me.”  And by using the brakes and being being all eyes at intersections.
 
“Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect.  And whistle a happy tune!  And no one will suspect:  I'm afraid!”  (Rogers and Hammerstein, The King and I)
 
“I sought the Lord and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.”  (Psalm 34:4)
 
I made it easy on myself:  told myself I could stop whenever I needed to, go as slowly as I cared to.  I chose a short (12 mile) familiar route so I'd have “gas in the tank” for the end.  Everything went well, and eventually I was back at my hill and downshifting to ascend.
 
“Jesus is with me” and “I can do this” were about all I could deal with in my head.  I took a slight uphill turnoff halfway and stopped for a minute then started back down a bit to launch myself up into the remaining climb.  It was brutal.  I was in my lowest gear out of 30 and got up the last steepest part in a sort of slow lactic acid bike crawl.
 
“I did it, I did it!”  Father I did it.
 
Father YOU did it!  You got me up “my hill” just like Jesus “got up” Calvary's hill for us.  He did it alone, no one else could do it for Him.  He knew how hard it would be.  And he wished it could be accomplished differently.  It was scary, even for Him!
 
“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow....My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.  Yet not as I will, but as you will.”  (Matt. 26:38-39)
 
He sweat real blood, but he kept going and didn't stop.  He knew it would hurt, but He knew He wouldn't fail.
 
What's your hill?  The scary thing you want to do but “can't”?  Is it something you've always wanted to do but haven't yet?  What are your excuses?  Too old, too slow, too big, too weak, too late, you're a woman?
 
Or maybe it's something you need to do:  make a Will, have a medical test, have a conversation you've been avoiding.
 
Jesus wasn't stopped by His fear, and aren't you glad?  What have you really got to lose?  Nothing, since you've already got Him in your life—and in your eternal life.  The exhilaration you feel after doing what you fear is so freeing, so beautiful.
 
We need to copy Jesus in this, probably over and over.  My hill is still a big physical challenge for me, but at least it's not as paralyzing.  And the scar on my knee is my reminder:  Jesus took the hill first so I can take my hills now.
 
What's your hill?  Plan your climb.
 
 
Cindy Zattich
VP Human Care, LWML-NED
 
* This title quote is from Eleanor Roosevelt, a strong woman who faced adversity and accomplished much good.