How marvelous! how wonderful!
And my song shall ever be;
How marvelous! how wonderful!
Is my Savior's love for me!
(Baptist Hymnal, 1975 Edition, Pg 63)
This is the chorus of an old hymn I grew up with called "I Stand Amazed in the Presence". We sang this in church recently, and it brought back memories. You see, this song has held extra special meaning for me since 2011.
Yes, there's a story here.
Before 2011, I had known for many years that I did not handle things like "normal" people did. Many things that others just took in stride were a horribly fear-filled challenge for me. For a long time, I avoided fear inciting things whenever I could. I knew something was off, but rather than investigate to try to determine what was wrong, I just tried to work around it or push through it when I had to. I figured this was just one of those "This is my lot in life" things. And my way of dealing with it that wasn't really dealing with it worked for a long time.
Then it didn't. Which led to an anxiety disorder diagnosis in 2011.
But wait, this story has a back story, as many stories do.
What led to my 2011 diagnosis actually began in August of 2010, when I was summoned for jury duty for the first time in my life when I wasn't a student. I could no longer utilize that excuse. This was for jury duty in downtown Houston. Yikes! Downtown Houston is super duper scary for me, with it's many one way streets and traffic and all the things. But I thought, I got this - I'm a grown woman. I can make this work. This was before GPS, so I came up with a plan. I got a map and highlighted it and memorized it and then I practiced driving to and from the court house on weekends at least 3 or 4 times. I'm serious. I really did all that in an effort to be prepared and minimize the fear.
Ha. It didn't work. One thing I could not practice was driving in and parking in the parking garage, since it was closed on weekends. My carefully engineered house of cards started to tumble when I drove into the parking garage but then somehow was driving the wrong way in the one way lanes to/from the parking spots. A very nice man flagged me down and told me I was going the wrong way, and he said, "This is your first time, isn't it?" Ummm... yes, of course. I turned around and drove correctly to a parking spot and then made my way to where we were supposed to check in. Eventually, it was time to head to the jury assembly room.
And then the real fun began. First of all, I found myself seated beside a woman who was one of those people who will with no reservations tell you every single detail of her very personal life story. She talked incessantly. I was trying to read a book to distract myself from the mounting fear I was experiencing. I probably would not have been able to read the book anyway, but her chatter made it impossible.
They kept flashing prospective juror numbers on the screen at the front. I watched this scene play out over and over. Potential jurors who had their number called made their way to a side aisle and lined up to be led by a clerk to a top secret unknown location probably underground somewhere.
Almost immediately, I had 3 huge fears stampeding in my mind:
What if they call my number and I am led away to one of those top secret unknown locations and stay there all day, and then we are dismissed from said unknown location? How will I ever find my way back to my car from somewhere entirely different?
What if I am in the restroom and miss my number being called? What will they do to me for not showing up where I was supposed to go?
What if I am one of the ones called forward who have to complete some kind of paperwork and return the next day? I'll never make it back after this day!
Crazy, unfounded fears. But at that time, these worst case scenarios felt completely plausible and oh, so real, and they ruled the day. I was having what I learned later were panic attack symptoms which included digestive issues that had me running to the restroom every few minutes. Such fun being me.
Time passed, and my symptoms kept escalating. The lady next to me kept talking. They kept calling out numbers and leading people away until there were only about 20 or so of us left in the assembly room.
And then, surprise! We were told that our cases had been dismissed and we were free to go.
What? All that crazy-making fear and panic for no reason! I was completely drained and weak and shaky. And I still had to drive back home.
This experience taught me that no, I could not hold fast to my "I am Woman, hear me roar" mentality and try to handle this myself again. I mean, come on, I didn't even get picked! I think that if I had, I might have found myself on the floor staring up at paramedics after I passed out. So glad I didn't get chosen.
I thought that just maybe I'd luck out and never be summoned again. Right.
Enter 2011. To be specific, August, 2011, almost exactly one year to the day from the previous jury duty summons. Talk about deja vu... I stood in shock holding in my hand the same form I got in 2010, only this was right at one year later. Seriously? Yes.
Sad to admit this, but I will. The very first thing I did was turn the summons form over to the back to find out what the penalty was for not showing up. At that time is was $1,000. And I thought, "OK, not going through this again is easily worth $1,000." And I meant it.
Fortunately, I called a dear friend who was a voice of reason to me in those days, and she told me to make an appointment with my doctor and take the jury summons in and explain what had happened before and see if he would write me a medical excuse.
My doctor was incredulous when I described the little box I was living in. It was this "cozy" (no, cramped) prison of my own making where because of my many crazy fears I put curtains over the barred windows and pillows on the lumpy bed and tried and failed to feel comfortable and secure. He had been my doctor since I outgrew my pediatrician. We talked for a long time. He diagnosed me and referred me to other help.
This was the beginning of my anxiety journey.
This story behind the story led to this new journey, and that led to me hearing this song and assigning significance to it.
Why is this song so special to me?
We "happened" to sing this hymn the Sunday after I was diagnosed. My reaction to my diagnosis was immediate and deep guilt. Why? Because I'm a Christian! And Christians aren't supposed to have anxiety issues; they are supposed to simply trust God. Fully. All the time. I had failed miserably.
But on that Sunday in 2011, the song started, and when I got to the chorus, I couldn't sing for the tears. I sensed deep within that Jesus was speaking to me through these words and telling me He loved me, with or without anxiety, He was with me, and He would not leave me alone as I sought help, healing, and recovery. The love of my Savior was far too marvelous and wonderful to let anxiety, or anything else, stop it.
Yes.
How marvelous! how wonderful!
Is my Savior's love for me!
Marvelous, wonderful love. The greatest love.
