The Power of Two Letters

One of the most powerful words in the English language is ‘no’. Two simple letters that pack a huge punch.

Be it an overloaded calendar, an unruly or inappropriate co-worker, a toxic relationship or activity, an adult child or friend that has over-extended his need for money; if we are still above ground and breathing we have a choice.

So…no.

No to those things that steal my time and joy. No to over-commitments that add nothing to my life or those precious ones around me. No to jobs that suck out my heart and soul and mind. No to conversations that give me a panic attack. No to lies that attack my mind and soul. No to immoral, profane and horror-filled shows that fill my nights with dread. No to dead ends, no matter how peer-pressured I feel to pursue them.

There are way too many ‘yes moments’ to live consumed with guilt because we didn’t say no to something.

So…yes.

Yes to thoughtful and mind-provoking discourse. Yes to relationships that encourage and lift up. Yes to shows that have a wholesome message and inspiring ending. Yes to a thought-life filled with positive and inspiring truths. Yes to people that need help and utilize it to make a positive change. Yes to church. Yes to a life filled with the wonder of the supernatural, living God and His Son, Jesus Christ. Yes to hope. Yes to life. Yes to joy. Yes, yes, yes!

Exercising the ‘no’ muscle is often painful, but the benefits can be endless and eternal.

Think about it.

Crimestalkers of the Lowcountry

On some kind of mission to validate my obsession with cop shows and crime thrillers, I jumped at the chance to attend an eight-week ‘Citizen’s Police Academy’ put on by the Beaufort County Sheriff’s Office.

I figured, yeah, I’d be one of about five people there.

When I got there at six on the dot, all seats were taken in a room that held about 40 people! The uniformed instructor noticed my wide-eyed hesitation and motioned me to the front. He pulled a chair out of thin air and shoved it at me. I sat.

The class lasts from 6-9 p.m. and there’s a break in between. During the breakbadge.jpg I noticed not one person under 50, and most were over 65. So far we’ve covered Civil Process, Environmental Crimes, Training & Firearms Simulator. Also Domestic Violence, Juvenile Services and Crime Scene Investigation . . . and everyone’s favorite grisly thrill: Forensics.

I just want you to know that personally, I felt a tingle when standing within four inches of actual bloody clothes from a local crime hanging in the Sheriff’s Office investigative forensics area in their nifty little blood-drying machine. Did you know a haze of superglue whooshed onto a surface will reveal perfect fingerprints? No? Did you know that DNA evidence takes up to six months to process, and if it’s a complex murder and a rush is put on it, six weeks is pretty standard?

Well, now you and I both know. The crime shows lie to us. Crimes are NOT wrapped up in a box and tied with a bow by the end of one hour. I was told ‘The First 48’ is an accurate depiction of what actually happens, so I’ve added that show to my list. It’s a wonder I can even sleep at night.

I’ve met investigators (one looks and acts just like Donnie Wahlberg, who plays Danny on Blue Bloods, honest to God) and Lieutenant Colonels and School Resource Officers, Deputy Sheriffs and Sergeants and more.  One of our instructors was Lieutenant Colonel Baxley, who commandeered the massive emergency effort for the most devastating hurricane to hit Hilton Head Island in fifty years – Hurricane Matthew. I wanted to hug him.

It’s made me wonder if I missed my calling. Visions of ‘Rizzoli and Isles’ or ‘Law and Order’ or ‘Criminal Minds’ roll through my head, only I’m the investigator catching all the bad guys.

I’m still a little dazed by the senior citizen preoccupation with this class. What is it that draws people to this stuff like flies to honey? Is it the fascination with the psychopathy of the serial killer? Is it the fight for justice? Is it our deep, overriding desire to see wrongs in our own life fought for and corrected? Is it a hankering to figure out the mystery of a crime?

Well, okay, it’s probably because we are all retired, but still . . .

For me, I wanted to get scenes right in my books, but it’s become more than that. It’s filling some unsatiated desire of mine lurking in the background. It energizes me, empowers me. Is this weird?

One thing for sure, l feel privileged after listening to several of Beaufort County’s brightest and best teach a topic and spend time answering question after question. These men and women put their lives on the line every day, 24/7. I’m grateful they took time out of their hectic, stressful schedules to participate in the Citizen’s Academy.

Next week we learn about Professional Responsibility and Civilian Response to Active Shooter Events. (Insert wide-eyed emoji here.) And as a happy bonus, on Saturday we are all headed to Beaufort to the pistol range to get a tour, watch Special Ops in action and partake of some target practice.

Graduation is October 16, and Sheriff Tanner will present us with certificates. After graduation, we have the option to sign up for a ride-along with a patrol officer!

Be still my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fear is a Liar

Last night was a rough night.

First, a change in assigned responsibilities on a new contract, and second; a tense conversation with one of the managers. It was a stressful day for my husband.

That evening he noticed dizziness. A ‘strange’ feeling. Then he went into our bedroom and laid on the floor.

I’m thinking, ‘the floor’? Then he asked me to take his blood pressure.

At that point, I’m paying attention. We took his blood pressure a couple times, and it was a bit high, but not horrible. He wanted to stay on the floor so I got a bunch of pillows and tried to make him comfortable. I tried to watch a movie in the other room but checked on him every fifteen minutes. My mind went nuts. I got online and read everything I could find about his symptoms and by the time I got done with that (not the best idea sometimes) I was planning a funeral and wondering how I could get along without him.

Fear had wrestled him (and by proxy, me) to the floor. How quickly we can cave to fear. Stripped away to its most basic definition, stress, anxiety and worry are fear.

False Evidence Appearing Real.

I think, like cholesterol, there is good fear and bad fear.

Good fear, or a developed respect for what we shouldn’t do, can cause us not to walk into the direct path of an oncoming car, avoid diving over a cliff or run from a dangerous situation. A healthy fear is necessary to propel us to avoid things that are bad for us or take steps to protect our loved ones.

Unhealthy fear, on the other hand, can quickly run amok. Normal pressures of life – a child that has lost his way, a recent diagnosis of a health challenge, financial woes, etc. – may make our hearts race, our minds spiral downward into worst-case scenarios and soon, we’ve talked ourselves into a stroke or heart attack.

At least in our minds.

After a sleepless night, we decided my husband should go to the emergency clinic and get checked out. A nail-biting and prayerful hour and a half later, I saw his number pop up on my cell. His voice was chirpy. My forehead knotted. How did you go from full-on anxiety to chirpy?

One word: reassurance.

A kind doctor had checked him out, spent time talking with him. No overt issues, no problems, symptoms were all within normal range. Follow-up appointment next week after a few minor adjustments in lifestyle.

Pretty tame stuff. I breathed a sigh of relief. Smiled. Thought about these scriptures:

 

Anxiety in a man’s heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad. ~Prov. 12:25

For God has not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, love, and a sound mind. ~2 Timothy 1:7

The Lord is my light and salvation; whom (or what) shall I fear? ~Psalm 27:1

 

Thanking, praising, breathing in His presence. Loving Him. That’s the antidote to fear, false or otherwise. It is reassuring to know that when fear knocks at the door, we can answer with His promises.