Punching Through the Bricks: Kaylee Overcoming Fear

She stands alone at the corner of the blue floor.  Her toes curl against the springy surface that promises to launch her high.  Her pink, sparkly uniform reminds her all eyes rest on her.  She wipes the sting of the tears from her eyes.  She wants this SO badly.  But this is only the warmup, and her teammates, friends and family in the stands, who know and understand her, yell, "C'mon Kaylee!"  "You've got this, Kaylee!"  "Here we go, Kaylee!"
She's frozen.
I sit on the cold bleachers with my left hand covering my mouth.
I see the tears in my daughter.
I feel them deeply and wait in suspense.

It's been nearly two months since she rocketed down the gymnastics floor doing a routine skill, tweaking her ankle in the middle skill and landed awkwardly, causing her to fall violently on her back.  I, along with her coaches, thought she would "get through it" in a day or two.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
Tears.
Making herself sick she wanted it so badly but the fear was real.  It was a thief.  It was a terrorizing beast hovering over her every time she stepped on the floor.  It was as if bricks were being built in front of her: one by one until her vision was entirely blocked and all she recalled, all she

remembered, all she could think about was the hurt of the fall.  Who wants to experience that again?  No one!  No one at all!  Not even her teammates who observed the fall as some of them developed their own fears after watching her.
When it first happened, we talked about it, challenging her to press through. But it soon became very clear that the fear was real and deep, and our verbiage shifted to encouragement and letting her know how much we loved her, and we were here for her.  After awhile, there were no words. Just a hug.  A reassurance.
What we were dealing with was real life.  Matt and I honestly did NOT care if she touched the floor one more time and she was done with gymnastics, but we did care that somehow, someway we got through this.  This transcended gymnastics; we were talking about a life skill she can carry with her forever.
A mile marker in her journey.

I stand from the bleachers to get a better view of my petite girl.  My mind goes back and forth whether she's going to try the skill in warmup.  If she can do it in warmup, she'll do it in the routine.  I know this.  I believe it.  And with all the gumption mustered in her small frame, and the gym's focus and vocalization drawn to her, she propels her body through the bricks, past the thieves and the terrorizing beast and does a beautiful round-off, backhand spring, back tuck. Her teammates cheer.

I wipe my tears.  She did it! She performed the skill in her routine, and ran to give her coach (who's been there every minute for her) for a big hug. 

On Sunday morning after church, we asked her what her lesson was about.
COURAGE.
Say what?
COURAGE.
"Do you understand what that means?"
"Yes, like when I did my back tuck."
Absolutely, Little One.
You get it.
Hide those Truths away in your heart for the next time fear creeps in like a dragon breathing fire.  Hold up your shield, let go of your arrow, and watch the dragon crumple to the ground.  And tomorrow...you may need to do it all over again.  
And know this promise by heart: "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).