Letting Go of Fears

Isaiah 41:10 (CSB) Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with My righteous right hand.

What would  do if I were not afraid? Would I bungee jump? Or skydive? Would I swim cross an ocean? Would I swim in the ocean? Would I climb the highest mountain or laugh in the face of a ridiculous bully? 

None of the above would I do. Mostly because they really don't interest me. What I will do is love without restrictions or inhibitions. Lately, Abba has been teaching me about love. Not the kind we see in the movies where it's about someone meeting my needs and I in return doing the same.

He's teaching me about real love where you're willing to lay down your life for a friend. Love that will die so that you can live. Love that's being perfected in Him. I have come to see fear for how despicable is truly is. I am understanding the meaning of the scripture, "There is no fear in love, for perfect love cast out fear. The two cannot coexist for one will rule in your heart. 

Several years ago Abba told me that fear is that high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of Him. All through the scripture before Abba gives instruction to His chosen people he addresses their fears. He assures them that He is with them. He is love. If love is with you, what do you have to be afraid of?

Their faces? Death? Pain? Rejection? Abandonment? Failure? All the things Jesus must have felt when He hung on the cross. Yet we claim to want to be like Him, but we fear the consequence of our choice on this temporal plane of existence. Love is eternal and the only thing that separates us as disciples of Christ.

I decided to love intentionally, to be an encourager, to esteem others above myself. To lay down my life for love. No one can take what you laid down. No one.

Fearless 

A Mother's Grief

Jeremiah 31:15New King James Version (NKJV)

Thus says the Lord:

“A voice was heard in Ramah,

Lamentation and bitter weeping,

Rachel weeping for her children,

Refusing to be comforted for her children,

Because they are no more.”

I watched two snuff movies this week. No, I'm not a crazy Satan worshipping deviant. I watched mostly by mistake, they were posted on Facebook. Two young black men coldbloodedly murdered by cops. I haven't got into the black lives matter movement. I refused to listen to watch/or be a part of to any of the issues concerning race relations in America. Not because I didn't care, but because I care too much. I didn't want to be manipulated and controlled by the powers that be. I saw a deliberate race baiting forming. One thing I know for sure is they hate us all. I saw the beginning of the destruction of our infrastructure and the intentional dividing of our people. This is my heart on the matter.

No mother should have to watch any other mother's children die. No mother should have to warn her child not to reach in their pocket if asked by police to see their ID. No mother should have to spend their whole day praying for their child to return home from work because they wear a blue uniform. No mother should have to choose what side to be on. We should not be asked to decide who children are the most important. I have not been able to stop crying for the bloodshed that is creating this racial divide.

I have one son and two grandsons, how do I tell them that they are considered worthless because of the color of their skin? How do I protect them from the sinister monster of racism? How do I tell the mother of a murdered child that prayer will change things without it sounding like a cop out? How do I teach love when hate is winning?

 How do I comfort a mother in the Middle East who child's life was considered collateral damage? How do I say we love you to a fellow Christian whose child was beheaded on a playground by USA funded terrorist? How do I tell a grieving mother of the Orlando tragedy that not every Christian hated your dead child for their lifestyle choice? How do you comfort a mother whose thirteen-year old's blood covers her bed? How do you tell a mother that it's not because her child is black, white, brown, yellow, red or wearing blue, Muslim, Christian or a Jew? It's just greed, bloodthirst and hate?

I have cried for each of these children. I have cried and cried. I sit here with a tear stained face and I say...ENOUGH! Stop killing our children. Stop killing God's likeness and image.

Oh, United States of America weep for your sins have reached heaven. 

Joel 2:12-14New King James Version (NKJV)

A Call to Repentance

12 “Now, therefore,” says the Lord,
“Turn to Me with all your heart,
With fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.”
13 So rend your heart, and not your garments;
Return to the Lord your God,
For He is gracious and merciful,
Slow to anger, and of great kindness;
And He relents from doing harm.
14 Who knows if He will turn and relent,
And leave a blessing behind Him—
A grain offering and a drink offering

Cry out weeping mothers! We have had enough, stop the innocent bloodshed all over this world.

And Jesus weep.

Come Lord Jesus!

Dear Girl Behind the Dumpster

Dear Girl Behind the Dumpster,

I read your letter last week and I have been meaning to write you. I have been afraid. Though I call myself Fearless I have many secret fears. God asked me to write this last week, but like I said I was afraid. Not of writing you, but of telling on me. You see I was the Girl on the Pee Stained Mattress. Though it was forty, yes forty years ago I still remember everything. I wasn't unconscious not to say one is better than the other just different, but judging by your letter the impact is just as devastating.

I know the how it feels not to want you own body anymore because it is suddenly and against your wishes contaminated. I know the powerlessness of not having a voice or authority over the very skin I was born in. You were unconscious I was too afraid to fight for me. You put on a brave face to spare your sister the anguish she must still feel. I remained silent, I hid his dirty secret not to protect him, but to protect the shame that had attached itself to me that night. I didn't want to become the girl who was raped, but I was her. 

Like you I lost all desire to communicate with the outside world. I didn't talk, I didn't eat and I didn't sleep. I relived it, over and over and over again. I dropped out of school, I sit in the same spot day after day. I was afraid to be left alone in the house. I was afraid to go out of the house. The world had become dark and uninviting. I slowly made my way back into the world, full of shame, secrets, and fears.

Twenty-five years later God asked me to write the story not only write it He asked me to give it to Him. I told Him it was a horrible story and I was over it why would He want that? He insisted so I reluctantly gave in. Back then I didn't have a computer, tablet, or a cell phone so I grabbed a loose-leaf notebook and start writing. I didn't know how many tears I would shade that day. Every bit of that night flooded my memory and assailed my senses. I remember details of the room, the smells surrounding me, the fear that gripped me and most of all how much I detested him and his touch. My story was three pages long front and back.I tucked it away in my wallet because frankly I didn't know what else to do with it.

Five years later it became the first story in an anthology. I met many wonderful sisters with similar stories, we forged an unbreakable bond.  We have conferences to tell our story. I was the only one that told it in front of men and a television station, they called me brave and I believed them. My rape had become my ministry. I went on to start a ministry. I told my story because it was setting others free and not just women there were many men that came to me secretly after a meeting. I prayed with each one, I prayed that they would forgive, I bound and loose shame off them. I became rape minister extraordinaire.

So you can imagine my shock when a couple of months ago God confronted me with the awful truth that I wasn't all the way free of my own trauma. Two years after my husband died God visited me and said He was going to send me another husband. I begged Him not to, I was awful in marriage. I wasn't a good wife. Please, I said don't do that to me, don't do that to him. He reminded me of this several times over the years, each time I had the same reaction.

 I haven't had many relationships I just thought I wasn't good at it so I avoided it. My family was happy when I finally married. I think they were beginning to give up on me. It's not like no one tried. So many kind guys did try. I just didn't think I loved any of them. I remember thinking something was wrong with me, I was so different from my friends. They loved, broke up and loved again. I didn't fall in love. I did get into many relationships when I was young, but none was successful. I was always the third wheel. I never attributed it to that night.

Last year God sent the man we'll just call him Joe to protect the innocent. I think I knew it when I first laid eyes on him. We became friends, he challenged me, encouraged me, listened to me and helped me through a very difficult time in my ministry. However anytime we would start getting too close I would feel this fear rise up inside of me. I felt as if I couldn't breathe and I wanted to run. I was telling my sister Gina about it one night, she told me to ask God what it is. I prayed and asked Him. He gave me a vision of Joe reaching in to kiss me and I smelled the stale alcohol breath of the rapist. The vision scared me, but I had an even worse vision. I had a vision of Joe and I talking and our words were giving each other life. Then my words got harsh and mean and my words pushed him away. God said,"you will chase him to your sisters, and he's a good man."

I prayed that I wouldn't do that. I prayed that I wouldn't hurt him, but I did exactly what God showed me I would do. That's when I realized that I have no control of what's broke inside of me and it has been broken for forty years. I tried to do the work on myself. I thought maybe I still have some unforgiveness. So I prayed for weeks for the rapist. I know I can never hold on to unforgiveness, bitterness, hate or resentment when I pray for someone. I prayed out loud, I prayed in my journal. I knew I wasn't holding on to hate. Finally, I asked the Lord what is it?

He told me to write it. It has taken me two weeks to sit down and write. I know it was coming out today. God woke me up with it. He told me that it's intimacy. You see it was easy to tell my story, I owed it, I loved God and he loved me. He walked me through the first part of my healing. I don't like the healing process I have to relive details or drop defenses. I have to feel the pain, grieve and let God comfort me. When I wrote the story that when in the book I laid on the floor and cried for three days.

I knew this would be hard to write. He said daughter you have refused to be intimate since that night. You have given your body but never your love and trust. The reason your marriage was so turbulent was because you never allowed true intimacy. I knew it was true. I gave my body but never could he have that tender area that would leave me vulnerable and afraid. So I build walls and learned resistance. No one could have all of me.  Joe got to close to my walls. He suddenly became dangerous to me. I didn't know how to fight as a teenager, I didn't know how to defend my body, so I lay as stiff as I could and defended my intimacy. He stole my body, my trust, my innocence but intimacy was mine it was the only thing I could protect. It was my way of saying, "You didn't get all of me."

I never dropped my defense of my intimate place. I know that now. Joe got to close to it. I had to find a way to fight. I sent letters with words that I intended to cut deep, words I have never ever even said out loud. I was angry and brash. I had to escape. I needed to breathe, the fear had overpowered me. I sabotaged the relationship and when I was good and finished. I said, "see God I knew he wasn't right." I sometimes have a huge capacity for self-deception. I can always make myself the righteous one. God is never impressed with my piety. He's given me no peace since my awful behavior. Joe went on to date someone else and I'm left with the pieces of my broken heart. God told me He's giving me beauty for ashes, but first, I had to give Him the ashes. Several times God spoke to me concerning the situation, I wrote long-winded text, some were nice most still had the sharp point of my dagger as an attachment.

Today, with my head bowed and tears filling my lap, I lifted my ash filled hands and said,"here they're yours, I don't want them anymore."

 So, Girl Behind Dumpster, continue to do the work on yourself don't allow that man to steal your intimacy. I'm proud of the way you have handled yourself so far. Keep doing the work to reclaim your life. And I know I speak for the 1 and 3 women everywhere that have suffered as we have, thank you for writing our letter.

Fearless

Standing Firm in Trouble

Job 4:3-5World English Bible (WEB)

3 Behold, you have instructed many,
    you have strengthened the weak hands.
4 Your words have supported him who was falling,
    You have made firm the feeble knees.
5 But now it has come to you, and you faint.
    It touches you, and you are troubled.

Six years ago I literally came back from the dead. I came back with two hundred thousand dollars worth of debt to the hospital. I could no longer afford my apartment, my car broke down before my out of town move. I sold it to my brother-in-law. My life was completely different. I woke to new life, but not to the one I wanted. I didn't know at the time that God was stripping me of everything that I put my trust in. He wanted all of me.

I found myself living among the least of these brothers and sister of mine that Jesus mentioned to in Matthew 25. At first, I tried to avoid them. He wasn't having that. He sent me to teach them his ways. I taught, I loved in the midst of anger,hatred and bitterness. I was cursed, persecuted, talked about, lied on and treated very badly. He was teaching me how to love when I wasn't loved in return. Sometimes I got it right, sometimes I got mad. I get it now.

God asked me to love someone lately. I know He asks us to love everyone. This time, it was direct and personal. Anytime my Abba gives me a direct command I know trouble is coming and I will be tested and trouble came exactly like He showed me. He sometimes shows me in advance what's going to happen. It happened just as He showed me. It troubled me. I got mad at Abba for requiring that from me. He told me off. I asked Him how am I suppose to love this person when they want nothing to do with me? They think I'm weird and unbalanced. 

I discovered it's easier to love the ones that curse you than the one that's indifferent to you. I don't now why that is. I guess I invested more of myself to the indifferent one. I wanted to be loved too. A couple of weeks ago I Abba gave me the answer. When Abba gives you a lesson it's best to past the course on the first test. I never do. So it keeps coming back to me.

Last night I finally got it. Every lesson on love is painful and beautiful. With the indifferent you have to simply love and earnestly desire the best for them. I prayed with tears in my eyes for them and my heart meant it. I will not stand before Abba to give an account to how anyone treated me. He's not concerned with how much of myself I invested with no dividends. It will always be, how I loved. I have to keep my heart clear of any debris. My love is pure and undefiled. I can't allow trouble to allow me to faint. All my trust is in my God. I promised Him all of me. 

The good news is that He's restoring all that I lost. Isn't it like Abba to bless you in the midst of trouble of your soul. I'm finally getting my credit back re-established, I have a wonderful new job, I'm also allowed to do what I love and will be paid nicely for it, my company should be up and running in the next few months, I'm meeting Lexington's most prestigious dignitaries and they are kind. And the best of all is Abba called me faithful. He finally got al of me. He always breaks us to remake us to the image of His Son. We really will go from glory to glory if we faint not, if we stand firm in the midst of trouble. Yes, my soul is troubled, but my Father is faithful.

Fearless

Seasons of Change

Ecclesiastes 3:1World English Bible (WEB)

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.

I have a job. I know I promised to never again work for anyone else. I tried to hold on and live what I like to call in simplicity. Not barefoot in clean white cotton, strumming on a guitar while singing campfire songs and eating veggies from my organic garden like I envisioned in my head. I did organic garden one year; I was a natural and I miss gardening. I even took guitar lessons, by lessons I mean Lisa Samson's son Jake gave me one lesson and it hurt my fingers and lost all of it's appeal to me.

I never quite became the hippie I wanted to be. I don't know why. I gave away all my power suits and high heels. I wore loud colors and big bright earrings, but hippie somehow escaped me just like it did in the seventies. I remember as a child in the sixties I would go to this hippie commune not far from my granddad's house with my siblings and cousins. They gave us tie-dyed paper flowers and said things like peace and love. I thought they were the epitome of cool. I wanted to be a hippie, but of course by the time I reached hippie age they were all gone to rehab or dead. Now they're called hipsters and they're artsy, liberal and condescending. I want to be like that.

I'm not. Not even a little bit. So I became the building minister. I did get the condescending part right. Abba called it pride. He has a way of calling sin by its proper name. Now I'm humbling myself. He put me in a job at a church under a pastor and his wife's watchful eyes. The first day was slightly uncomfortable, for them at least. I have a hard time not being my jovial self. So I didn't attempt not to be. I talked, told jokes, laughed at my own jokes. I know they were funny if you don't have a stick up your rear end. I don't think they know how to take me. Here's a clue, like I am.

I've been doing a lot of research for them. I wear office attire, the little that I still have left which isn't much. I wonder if I can wear hippie clothes. My season of just being comfortable and living and working in one small spot have ended. Abba called it my valley experience. Those valley experiences are rough. Jesus strips you of everything and leaves you with the bare minimum and test to see if you would still follow him. It's lonely and Jesus is always serious and sometimes a little stern. My season has changed. I'm now in a season of childlike faith again. I love this season. He's speaking tenderly to me and He's funny and I get to be His baby again. I can ask for things;silly things and He immediately answers in strange ways that make me laugh. Every day is like a new adventure full of wonder and surprises. I am so in love.

Fearless

After A While

The Death of a Refrigerator

1 Thessalonians 5:18World English Bible (WEB)

18 In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus toward you.

Saturday my refrigerator died. She served me well in the last few years. Not only did she keep my food housed and safe from spoilage, she held my grocery list, inspirational magnets, she even held my much neglected daily schedule. It wasn't always easy living together in such a small space. We have had our difficulty. Like the time her freezer clogged with ice and it melted and leaked all over my floor. There have been times in the middle of the night I stumbled into her on my way for a quick bathroom run. I always apologized. I like to think she forgave me. Other than that, we lived well together.

I was babysitting a five-month-old when I noticed the freezer was not working. I could hear the slight pulsating sound of life coming from the refrigerator, however the food in the freezer was wet and soggy. It was a mess of dripping blood and juices. I called maintance and reported a problem with my freezer. I had reported the freezer before I realized the refrigerator was not working. The light was on and I could hear the motor. Nothing was cold.

Caring for a five-month-old is difficult enough without a dead refrigerator, but its catastrophic when you combine the two. It was one of those days that I just didn't want to deal with a mess. If not me then who? I had to do something before maintance got there. The bible says in all things give thanks. I think dead refrigerators would fit in to the catagory of all things. The baby's grandmother picked him up and I went about the task of salvaging what I could.

Did I give thanks? Not at first. My first thoughts were whiny and complainy. Woe it's me, I have to clean and cook all day. My neighbor came over upset because he had been ripped off by a mechanic. I told him to praise and thank God for restoring what he had lost. That's when it hit me, I should take my own advise. In all things give thanks, that is the wil of God concerning us. My refrigerator died, I lost food, but the source of all my blessing still sits on the throne.

I lost quite a bit of food. I cooked all night what I could, and some I gave away so that others would benefit from my loss. I got a temporary replacement that night. Most of my fresh fruit and vegatable had started to fuzz and smell moldy. The frozen meat I cooked and gave away, but in the midst of it all I gave thanks. I thanked God that I could be a blessing to others. I thank God for the temporary replacemnt that came in the middle of the night. I thanked God that I was able to salvage a lot of the food. I thank Him because I know He will replace that which I lost.

Today I got a new refrigerator. I put my inspirational magnets on it. I put my mostly neglected schedue on it and the food I kept in it. And I give thanks.

Fearless

The Beautiful One

Song of Solomon 2:10-13World English Bible (WEB)

10 My beloved spoke, and said to me,
    “Rise up, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.
11 For, behold, the winter is past.
    The rain is over and gone.
12 The flowers appear on the earth.
    The time of the singing has come,
    and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree ripens her green figs.
    The vines are in blossom.
    They give out their fragrance.
Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
    and come away.

My life is changing so fast I find it hard to keep up myself. For years, the Lord has made promises to me. He has spoken tender love stories in my ear. He calls me the beautiful one even when I feel tired and haggard and not attractive at all. When my hair is dirty and stringy and my eyes bloodshot from crying, like right now. His love always leaves me crying with joy. Today, he felt like loving on me. I guess I needed a love feast today. For sure they are always welcome though unexpected.

He gave me the scripture that I posted today. I opened my bible and there it was. It's the same scripture from my story in Sistahfaith. It always touches my heart and reminds me of His everlasting love and covenant to me. For me it's personal.

Yesterday I had a phone call that left me feeling misunderstood and judged wrongly. I don't know why people see me different than I truly am. It's hard when someone is weighing your every word and you know it. Sometimes my speech is halting,not because I lack confidence, but because I want to give the right words so as to not be misjudged. I fail every time. I've come to the concussion that I should just be me. I'm freeing myself of trying to be understood or loved.

I know the one that loves me. I hear His voice and He loves me completely. I can't be separated from His love. I don't have to win His approval. I realize that a person can tell you that they don't love you one time and you may never feel as if they do again. I remember once as a young wife and mother that I told my husband that I hated him in a fit of rage.

I will never forget the devastated look in his eyes. Even after the argument was over the pain remained inside of him and he often reminded me of what I had said. I loved him and it was never true, but he never felt secure in my love again. To be secure in something means fastened to, held firmly. When you refuse to hold love firmly or fasten to it, why call the other person insecure? I gave him no safety or security. He was left with nothing to hold on to.

Jesus love is always firmly fastened. It's solid, it's where my security lies. Today I'm loved and called the beautiful one, even if I don't see it.

Fearless

Faithfulness for Much Afraid

1 Thessalonians 5:23-24World English Bible (WEB)

23 May the God of peace himself sanctify you completely. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be preserved blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

24 He who calls you is faithful, who will also do it.

I am in awe of Abba. I have been reflecting on my journey so far. I see me as the character Much-Afraid in the book Hinds Feet on High Places. I don't always understand what Abba is doing. Sometimes I have to look back before I have the least bit of understanding. I wish I could say, "I got this." A lot f the times I feel as if I got tricked. He's so much wiser than I am.

In the book, Much-Afraid is talking to the Shepherd. He showed her a seed that looked like a thorn and asked to put it in her heart. And of course, true to her name Much-Afraid feared it would hurt. Here is the discourse between the two of them from the book.

“She bent forward to look, then gave a startled little cry and drew back. There was indeed a seed lying in the palm of his hand, but it was shaped exactly like a long, sharply-pointed thorn… ‘The seed looks very sharp,’ she said shrinkingly. ’Won’t it hurt if you put it into my heart?’

He answered gently, ‘It is so sharp that it slips in very quickly. But, Much-Afraid, I have already warned you that Love and Pain go together, for a time at least. If you would know Love, you must know pain too.’

Much-Afraid looked at the thorn and shrank from it. Then she looked at the Shepherd’s face and repeated his words to herself. ’When the seed of Love in your heart is ready to bloom, you will be loved in return,’ and a strange new courage entered her. She suddenly stepped forward, bared her heart, and said, ‘Please plant the seed here in my heart.’

His face lit up with a glad smile and he said with a note of joy in his voice, ‘Now you will be able to go with me to the High Places and be a citizen in the Kingdom of my Father"

For some love walked out on them, for me, love bled to death in my arms. I became Much-Afraid on a day that would have appeared beautiful in a romance novel. It was an early summer day. There were a gentle breeze and the one I loved also loved me. Nothing prepared me for his death. Yes, that's the day unbeknown to me that  I took on the moniker, Much-Afraid.

Abba know, he told me about the seed. I refuse to even consider planting that seed in my heart. I begged Him to spare me anymore heartache. I assured Him I would be just fine without it as long as I have Him. I was fine for the most part. I followed Him. His faithfulness never waivered even though I was Much-Afraid.

For the last seven months, Abba has truly worked with me concerning that seed. I like Much-Afraid finally found the courage to step forward and bare my heart to my Shepherd and say, "Please plant the seed here in my heart." And you now what? It did hurt.

Today I looked at the Shepherd's face and remembered His words, "When the seed in your heart is ready to bloom, you will be loved in return." He is faithful and He will bring it to pass.

Fearless

PS: Then he pressed the thorn into her heart. It was true, just as he had said, it did cause a piercing pain, but it slipped in quickly and then, suddenly, a sweetness she had never felt or imagined before tingled through her. It was bittersweet, but the sweetness was the stronger. She thought of the Shepherd’s words, ‘It is so happy to love,’ and her pale, sallow cheeks suddenly glowed pink and her eyes shown. For a moment, Much-Afraid did not look afraid at all.” 
― Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places

My Cardboard Box

I'm home from a long stay in Michigan taking care of my sick mother. I don't mind traveling. I have been doing a lot of that lately. Mostly because I had begun to hate my apartment building. It's starting to look rundown and unkept. Most of the older women have either moved or died. The new tenants are men, mostly veterans fro Vietnam. Don't get me wrong I love our soldiers and I appreciate what they did for us-I really do. I just don't like the way some of them flirt and a couple of them look scary. Scary as in, don't ride on the elevator alone with them or you may become a statistic.

I know the old adage "You can't judge a book by its cover," but I was warned about them and their behavior before I saw them. A few of my neighbors warned me not to be friendly and invite them to the bible study because they have been involved in some pretty unsavory and questionable behavior. I don't like gossip and I don't like having formed an opinion on someone based on something that someone else said, but I hate to be told not to invite someone to meet Jesus.

So even though they flirt with toothless grins and might be or not be involved in drugs, bringing prostitutes in the building and may even murder me in an elevator; I was friendly and invited them to the bible study. I realized that is why I'm in the building, and why I'm in Lexington. Although I felt as if I did the right thing, my heart wasn't right. I was scared and a more than a little discussed with living here.

So I lived away for awhile.

I lived at my mom's house, I visited my best friend since childhood Joy's house. I lived out of my suitcase a lot. I was comfortable sometimes and sometimes not. I had no time for me. I wrote with clatter and friction. I learned to obey others rules. I made myself useful and available. To be honest I'm just not used to that.

My apartment is home to me. When I returned I was so glad to see it in all of it's purple glory. It's neat and clean, and it's mine. My neighbors don't knock a lot anymore. I have peace and serenity. When I returned God reminded me of a promise I made to him fifteen years ago. I promised him that I would live in a cardboard box if He was with me. I let fear and subtle intimidation and dirty hallway carpet usurp my promise to Him. The apostle Paul said he's knows what it is to be in need and what it is to have plenty and he learned how to be content in all things. He said he can do all things through Christ who gives him strength.

Today I'm content in my cardboard box.

Fearless