We all have fears—fears of heights, spiders, the dark, snakes, and people. Fears are a means of our bodies protecting us from danger, whether real or imagined. Ever since I can remember, I’ve feared vomiting; nausea at times could send me into incapacitating panic attacks. The fear was like being sucked down a drain; I saw the current pulling me down to the never-ending darkness, but I could do nothing but let myself be drawn under the swirling waves. That fear enveloped me from early childhood, adolescence, college and adulthood, and motherhood.
When my twins began eating food, one had a strong gag reflex. For many meals, he would gag and even throw up. Instincts told me to run; my limbs became hot, and my heart thumped like a caged bird.
In Emma Fox’s book The Arrow and the Crown, Anna faces her greatest fear: The Grünwald Forest. For as long as she can remember, she’s feared the forest—so much so that she will barely approach it for firewood or berries. The villagers aren’t all that keen on it either; they claim vengeful spirits haunt it, but even more, it is where the savage Beast—who tears apart farms and peasants—resides.
In the story’s opening pages, Anna is faced with a choice. Her beloved horse flees from the barn, and the yard is covered in horse and Beast tracks leading into the forest. Will she allow her beloved horse to be devoured by this creature, or will she pursue him in hopes of saving him? This is more than just a beloved pet; he’s also a primary source of income for her and her injured uncle to make ends meet. Anna decides to let love overcome her fears.
Another woman who let love lead her amid her fears stands in Scripture: Mary, the mother of Jesus.
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