{"id":379521,"date":"2013-09-11T15:55:00","date_gmt":"2013-09-11T15:55:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2013\/09\/11\/a-bouquet-of-fear\/"},"modified":"2013-09-11T15:55:00","modified_gmt":"2013-09-11T15:55:00","slug":"a-bouquet-of-fear","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2013\/09\/11\/a-bouquet-of-fear\/","title":{"rendered":"A Bouquet of Fear"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Back in July, BlogHer<\/i> Family editor, Jenna Hatfield posed this question, \u201cWhat would you do if you weren\u2019t afraid?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I\u2019ve been working on Fear: Is It Friend or Foe for more than a week now, but it\u2019s just not ready, Friends.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I feel this Fear piece needs as much of my undivided attention as this courage composition<\/span><\/a> had, but right now my thoughts are a bit jumbled due to the early back-to-school hours and the stress of trying to compensate for the restructuring our district has done.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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As I pulled it out this morning to work on it, a thought reminded me of an essay I once submitted for consideration to Newsweek\u2019s<\/i>My Turn<\/i> column. It\u2019s a reflection on an event that happened in my tiny town in the days following 9\/11.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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This work wasn\u2019t selected for that magazine, but now it has a home here, at The Five Facets<\/i>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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It\u2019s especially poignant given that today marks yet another anniversary of those terror attacks.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Twelve years.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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So long ago, and yet so, so very recent\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Like so many, I still remember exactly where I was when I first heard the strange bit of broadcasting news, and then the DJ\u2019s shouts that the second tower had been hit.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I remember the panic of not knowing where in the world or on what airline my businessman father was\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I lived three-and-a-half hours from the city center and some six-hours from the Pentagon.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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The devastation wreaked on our nation that day rippled out far and wide and in more ways than we can count.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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My heart goes out to each and every person who was affected by the events on that September day.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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There were so many types of losses that day: loss of life, limb, financial and emotional security, faith\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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But we are here, Journeyers, we are standing. Together.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Some of us have reconciled our conflicts while others are still grappling with the tragedy, trying to make sense of something so senseless.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Separately, yet jointly, we are recovering.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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If you are still struggling, please know that you are not alone. Reach out. We are here for you.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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It\u2019s The Five Facets\u2019 slogan and a truth that I believe to the bottom of my heart: \u201cWe are neighbors in grief and allies in healing.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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As you read this article, ask yourself if you see Fear holding you back from love or kindness or dreams\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Hugs and healing, Journeyers\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Soon\u2026<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/span>

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A Bouquet of Fear<\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/div>\n
Written August 2005<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n
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I doubt I\u2019ll ever forget the stranger who gave me a red rose. Or the fear that ensued. \u201cHave a nice day,\u201d the elderly man said as he presented me with a single rose from the dozen or so he clutched in his hand.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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There I stood, minding my own business, filling my gas tank at a station practically in the middle of nowhere, when this unknown person approached me. What\u2019s he doing? <\/i>I thought as I hesitated to return the smile and accept this disquieting symbol of kindness.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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When I finished pumping the fuel, I tossed the rose on the passenger seat of my car where I left it for about a week. Day in and day out, I questioned my fear of the potentially tainted flower but I couldn\u2019t overcome my apprehension. Thus, I watched it shrivel into dark, brittle waste.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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This event took place three-and-a-half years ago, a few miles from my home in upstate New York. Despite living in a rural community four hours from NYC and some five hours from Washington, D.C., I breathed the threat of chemical attacks that followed 9-11.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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People don\u2019t hand out long-stemmed red roses to strangers for no reason. What if it\u2019s coated with anthrax? Or worse?<\/span><\/i> I tried to convince myself that the man\u2019s action was nothing more than an innocuous gesture of good will and cheer during one of the most somber times in our nation\u2019s history. In addition to daily body counts, the media were reporting ubiquitous acts of selflessness. It is possible he\u2019s just being nice\u2026 <\/o:p><\/i><\/span><\/div>\n

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After all, hadn\u2019t I bestowed my own kindness on strangers? I gave blood. I convinced a friend that we needed to go to NYC within weeks of the attacks on the Twin Towers. I\u2019d insisted we could help the then-struggling Broadway and make a statement: We\u2019re not afraid. NYC stands; it will flourish again, and I\u2019m going to help make it happen. And, that\u2019s exactly what we did. We drove into NYC, stayed in a Manhattan hotel just miles from the carnage, ate at local restaurants, took in a show, and taxied into Soho to browse the art galleries.<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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Every once in a while, something happens to remind me of that trip to NYC or that aging, rose-toting gentleman. Most recently, it was yet another stranger offering random kindness.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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About eight weeks after the Twin Towers collapsed, my eldest son began training in the sport of weightlifting. Today he\u2019s a national-level competitor and recently received an invitation to represent the U.S. in an international competition in Mexico. To offset the cost of the trip, we began selling raffle tickets.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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One of the first door-to-door stops we made was to a tenant-house. We chatted for a few minutes with the neighbors we hadn\u2019t previously met. The couple purchased one of the five-dollar tickets, and my son and I continued on our way.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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The next day, the husband, Joseph, from that same house stopped by to say he ran a delivery route of two-hundred-and-twenty customers, and he\u2019d be happy to sell tickets for us. When my husband told me about the offer, I was skeptical. We don\u2019t even know this man. What if he absconds with the tickets and the money? Too many tenants move out in the middle of the night, never to be heard from again. Why would he go to such trouble for someone he doesn\u2019t know if there wasn\u2019t something in it for him? <\/i>Afraid of offending him, I gave him the twenty tickets he requested.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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The next night I answered a knock at my front door. There stood Joseph, smiling and holding up an envelope on which he\u2019d written: \u201c17 tickets, $85.\u201d He actually apologized for not selling all twenty, explaining that three of his customers had been out.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I could feel the blank expression in my smile as the simplicity of his kindness vaporized my doubting brain.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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\u201cI\u2019ll be happy to sell more if you\u2019d like me to\u2026\u201d His words seemed to jumble in my stupor. \u201c\u2026 anything to help out the kids.\u201d I thanked him profusely as I handed him another twenty tickets. I shook my head and smiled after I closed the door. And then, I remembered the man at the gas station, and it saddened me to realize how distrustful I am, how fear-driven our society is\u2026 There really are truly nice people in the World who simply do things from the goodness of their hearts.<\/o:p><\/i><\/span><\/div>\n

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In addition to raising money for this trip to a foreign country, I\u2019ve been reading tourist tips: Don\u2019t carry a purse or a bag because thieves can slice it open from behind\u2026 Don\u2019t drive at night\u2026 A driving accident will likely land you in jail\u2026 A well-intentioned acquaintance warned me against giving money to beggars, regardless of how young they are: \u201cWith your blonde hair and blue eyes, you\u2019re going to stand out like a sore thumb. You\u2019ll be mobbed if you start handing out money.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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A few times I\u2019ve found myself thinking that I\u2019m not so sure I want to go on this trip. Muggings, thievery, police impersonators, being mauled\u2026 But I\u2019ve finally decided: I\u2019m not going to that place of fear this time. I\u2019m going to Mexico. And maybe I\u2019ll pick up a bunch of red roses and \u201cpay it forward\u201d along the way. (just as this woman did with six cents<\/span><\/a>.)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Back in July, BlogHer Family editor, Jenna Hatfield posed this question, \u201cWhat would you do if you weren\u2019t afraid?\u201d I\u2019ve been working on Fear: Is It Friend or Foe for more than a week now, but it\u2019s just not ready, Friends. I feel this Fear piece needs as much of my undivided attention as this […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3884,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[170,1012,1090,1091,915,284,1092,319,1093,321,69],"class_list":["post-379521","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-170","tag-blogher","tag-bouquet-of-fear","tag-broadway","tag-courage","tag-fear","tag-nyc","tag-pay-it-forward","tag-september-11-terror-attacks","tag-six-cents","tag-the-five-facets"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/Rose-Bouquet.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379521","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=379521"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379521\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3884"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=379521"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=379521"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=379521"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}