The Fear in the Foyer

If you come to Kentucky for a visit, you will see that the front door opens from a large cement and brick porch and into the foyer. The entryway of our house has this beautiful marble tile and the staircase to the second floor is hardwood. The walls are painted a lovely cream color with white trim. There is a half bath straight ahead, next to the staircase; and there is a coat closet. The other day, as I turned the corner from the living room to head upstairs to get something, there was also a four foot snake. I know it was four feet long because all 48 inches of it was stretched completely out as it had begun the slow climb, slither, whatever you call it, up the stairs, presumably towards warmer weather in the bedrooms (shudder). It was not a thin, ropelike, wisp of a snake. It was a thick, hefty, mottled black snake with cold black eyes. It was so large and looking so out of context that my initial thought was “Why would Jain put a fake snake on the stairs as a joke? That’s not like her.” A millisecond later I realized that was a preposterous idea, which left me with the very unpleasant and almost equally preposterous conclusion that a live, python looking fellow was somehow and inexplicably lounging on the stairs in our foyer. I didn't shout. I didn't jump back. I stood very still and weighed my options.

Jain was on the back patio, napping in our hammock. She does not care for snakes. At all. When the kids were quite young, we took them to the Nature Center, and the staff had a corn snake out for the children to handle. Before we could say a word, four year old Courtney had the thing draped all over her like a -- well, like a feather boa. “Mommy, look!” And poor Jain was paralyzed against the wall 20 feet away, with a squeaky and almost hyperventilating “That’s so…so…sweet, honey! My -- gracious, what a big girl!”

I knew for her to see this snake in her home would be a really bad idea, so I quietly went to the garage, grabbed my grill tongs – the ones with the long handles – and walked back to the stairs. Pinching our visitor a few inches behind his head, I picked it up. It coiled all around the handle of the tongs. I wasn't scared. Honestly, if I didn't have the tongs I would have very likely picked it up with my bare hands; I've watched enough Steve Irwin to feel confident in doing this. I took it outside and gave it a toss into the woods. And then I had to decide – do I tell Jain about this when she wakes up? I decided that it would be best to let her know that it had happened, lest a snake reappear at any other time. She was not happy, to say the least. However, a thorough search of the house demonstrated that there were no other reptiles anywhere and also showed that the unwanted guest had most likely made his way into the house via the main water valve hole, a 4 inch diameter cut in the  wall of the entryway coat closet. It is now duct-taped to discourage any future trespassers.

I tell you this story because not 24 hours later I was carrying a basket of craft supplies upstairs for Jain, when suddenly a wolf spider crawled out from among the papers in the basket and perched right on top of the stack, staring me down. It was the size of a silver dollar, and I yelled, dropped the basket, and smashed the spider with I-have-no-idea-what-was-nearby-within-arm’s-reach. That basket could have had priceless family heirlooms in it, and it wouldn’t have mattered; I still would have slammed it to the floor and obliterated whatever was in my way.

The Incredibly Evil Wolf Spider (Potens Mali Lycosidae): actual size

During our first year of marriage I dreamed one night that a large blue arachnid, much bigger than my hand, was slowly descending from the ceiling right above me, and that I was powerless to do anything but watch. I tried to move but couldn’t get away. However, in reality I was twitching and moaning, and woke up my beautiful bride, who out of sheer concern (do you see what’s coming?) placed her hand on my chest to wake me up. I jumped out of bed, threw her across the room and tore the covers off the mattress because I knew, I felt it!, I KNEW beyond the shadow of a doubt that a huge spider had just landed on me and we weren’t going back to sleep until I found the cursed thing. This past spring while driving I nearly slapped myself a concussion when I looked in my rear view mirror and saw an itsy bitsy on my forehead.

Jain is afraid of snakes; I am afraid of spiders. While there are dangerous examples of each, we are very aware that our individual reactions to the ones we encounter are completely irrational. It would be cruel for me to demean Jain because of her fear of snakes, and it would be hypocritical and rude for her to tell me to “just get over it” when confronted by a spider. Instead, we give each other grace. We’ve learned to face and work through the fears together.

What then, about the other fears that pop up in the entryways of our lives? What about my fear of failure? What about your fear of rejection? Or the fear of isolation? Or the loss of control? These fears show up in places both common and unexpected and always at inconvenient times: an argument, a date, before an important interview, in the midst of affection and sexual intimacy, in the middle of working on a project, while driving to work. I am painfully aware that most of the conflicts in my relationships are based out of irrational fears that we each hold onto. The fear may be grounded in a genuinely hurtful encounter from the past, but it has grown out of proportion to any present context and is frequently misdirected in the present relationship. My marriage is the microcosm where this is most apparent, but I see it in relationships with family, with friends, with my boss, and even with complete strangers.

These fears, however irrational, are much more damaging than spiders and snakes. So we need to be open to facing them, dealing with them as they are, and moving through them into healthy communication and wholeness. But it starts with me giving you a lot of grace for your fears, because I certainly have mine. So rather than judging each other, demeaning each other, or patronizing each other, may we bear with each other in love, allowing for each other’s faults, and forgiving each other just like we long for forgiveness. And may we lovingly speak the truth, calling out our fears for what they are, confessing them to each other and encouraging each other in steps towards fearless relationship.

The Black Racer (Coluber constrictor priapus) of the Southeastern United States
As adults, these snakes can reach up to 60 inches in length.