On Ignoring Their Alarms

"What does 'Report Sus-pie-see-us Activity' mean?", Aidan asked. We had just driven by the international airport in our area. "It's 'suspicious'", I pronounced for him, "and it means...it means if you see a bad guy, doing something bad around the airport, you should tell someone".

I'm tired of seeing that sign, every time I drive by the airport.

I'm tired of being told I should be afraid.


There were thunderstorms in our area over the weekend. Strong ones, with wind damage to some homes and trees uprooted. Television stations interrupted broadcasting to keep us up-to-date with "Weather Center Alert" breaking news updates. Two nights in a row, the "Severe Weather" sirens in our county sounded their blaring alarms.

And during those storms, my kids rode their bikes around outside, stomping in the warm rain, smiles on their faces.

As they played, my neighbor called on the phone: "I'm not sure if you know your kids are playing outside right now," she reported. "Just thought I'd tell you. They say the storms are severe and people should take shelter...I've seen a lot of lightening." She is a friend and loves my children -- she was truly concerned for their safety. But, the chances of my children getting struck by lightening in their own driveway are, most likely, as remote as "Sus-pie-see-us Activity" occurring at our airport.

It could happen.

But it probably won't.


As a mother, I live with fears every day. My 9 month old cousin died of SIDS years ago. I spent the first year of each of my children's lives with a nagging fear that they might not wake up one morning. I still go in and check on them in the middle of the night, now and then. I have a friend whose two year old son drowned in her backyard pond. I nearly hover over my children at the local swimming pool. I strap them tightly in their (highest safety ratings) carseats every day and they wear helmets when riding their bikes past our driveway. I still cut my seven year old's grapes.

And I have irrational fears as well. I'm afraid of pretty much all underwater creatures (so creepy, they are!) and I don't sleep well when my husband isn't home (fear of the boogyman?). I'm also afraid to get my hair cut short, even though I really want to do it.

But having fears and living in fear are different animals. And I don't -- I can't -- listen, anymore, to other people telling me to be afraid in my day-to-day life. "This could be it!", they exclaim, with what could be mistaken for...no, it couldn't be...a perverse excitement? "Go! Hide! Bring the duct tape!", they decree.

I won't do it.

I won't teach my children to be afraid of people who might, perhaps, look, maybe "like terrorists". Or of dark clouds that may produce fireworks in the sky. Maybe that's not smart. But, in my mind, being aware and respectful is one thing. Living in fear is another.

Threat Level Orange? Thanks for the notice.

Storms on the horizon? Bring 'em on.

Because, sometimes, you just have to trust that things are as they should be.


And, oh, what we might miss, if we're too busy hiding from someone else's fear.