Doubt or Panic? Which one comes first?

I feel like St. Peter when he walked out onto the water to be with Jesus. My eyes, heart, and mind remain fastened on Him. However, now I feel like I am sinking...

In one day, the tub overflowed with the help of the 3 year old "bailing ship". "But, mommy my boat it's broken!" As water poured into the basement, I start to panic -- yelling for FDR. "Umm, HONEY -- get down here, NOW!" About an hour later, still soaking up the water mess from the boy, I sensed an odor, "What is that smell? Did someone not flush, again?" After a brief investigation, we headed back to the basement realizing that the sewer backed up..."Oh for heaven's sake!"

Here, in Western New York, we've had tons of rain --wonderful thunder storms, of which later that night we awoke with rain literally drowning, now this time, our upstairs bathroom. The gutter outside was obviously clogged and the rain poured inside the window causing a mini lake. As I grabbed more towels...only to do this laundry later -- I started to cry...panic...doubt!

Could this be a sign? A sign that we are making the wrong choice or possibly the right one, in moving all of us away from what we know and truly love into the unknown of seminary living? I start my "stinking thinking", as FDR calls it, and thought "Who am I fooling? I can't even handle some water issues -- what makes me think that I can handle seminary life?"

"But when he (Peter) saw that the wind was boisterous, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out saying "Lord help me!" And immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him, and said to him "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?"

I was about to drown in my panic hesitation of wavering doubt, with logosmoi pulling down on me..."Lord help me!"

As I mentioned before, everything has worked out...every little detail from exactly 1 year ago up until today...

Last summer, July 31, 2007, FDR and I had the privilege of traveling to Kodiak Alaska to assist the week prior to and participate in the St. Herman of Alaska Pilgrimage. During the pilgrimage week, once a year, permission is granted to open the reliquary of St. Herman for veneration after the Akathist service. As I walked away, I surveyed my husband standing over the sarcophagus, holding the lid up for all to see inside. My husband was covered in a cloud, no doubt the presence of God in front of his very mortal being.

The room began to take on a different shape where movements appeared to slow and sounds became crystal clear...the flicker of the candles could be heard. A sensational light fragrance filled the church. It was after boating to Spruce Island the next day, where St. Herman lived, that the fragrance came back to me and seeped into my woolen sweater -- into the pores of my skin. It was the spruce trees! It was the ground! Those mammoth trees growing towards the heavens permeated in many many years of prayer -- rooted deep and strong into the carpeted brownie-green moss anchored into the earth's most beautiful sweet smelling soil.

After venerating St. Herman's relics, I went to borrow one of the Yupik babies to help out one of the seminary moms. I proceeded outside to rest on the Cathedral's front steps. Sitting on the steps with this adorable pudgy baby, I began to scan the breath taking scenery of snow-covered mountain tops and the mirrored glass of St. Paul Harbor. There, the Holy Spirit came to me, I believe, or St. Herman, quiet yet a still presence. No, I did not hear anything audible. The world around me magnified...the air still, not stifling. The leaves danced to a melody unknown until this moment of grace appeared. And it was just that...grace -- penetrating into the fibers of my being. It was as hot oil, not scorching, had been poured over my head and reached to the tip of my toes and fingers -- warming me from within. This was well with my soul and I knew...that we ought to go to seminary. That is all I knew. I began to shiver but I was warm all over. My face was flushed yet I was not overheated. A joy seeped in -- a gentle smile of tears...those quiet tears that well up from your soul.

Pulling myself together with heart pounding secrecy awaiting to speak with my husband, as he finished his "Deacon duties". He finally came outside onto the steps of the Cathedral, where I was mingling with visiting pilgrims, and I noticed he looked different -- such peace in his eyes. I could sense that he too, couldn't wait to speak with me.

Reaching for his hand, I quietly said "Let's walk...a good walk, I need to talk with you" "I would like that", he answered with his sweetest of smiles.

We walked hand in hand...I started to cry. This time, these tears would not stop and they flowed just like the rain coming into our window. We connected -- we were in agreement and we knew. He spoke first with careful softness "We should go to seminary -- I don't know if it's here in Alaska...I don't know where, still I feel the call to go." With a firm embrace, he twirled me around and reminded me that he, in his short lifetime, only had this "feeling" two other times: 1) when he knew he loved me and wanted to make me his bride 2) when he knew that The Orthodox Church was where we needed be and 3) that he was called to seminary -- to ministry.

WHEW! How do you object to that?

In one day, in one hour of walking we laid out plans, which actually seemed like seconds, then we prayed "Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, according to your will."

You see, about 2 years ago, I was adamantly against going off to seminary. I loved my home too much -- where could we find one like it again? Doubt! How on earth are we going to pay for this? We had gone through a very rough patch financially...panic and doubt! I cannot leave my family -- what about my mom, my friends, the home school group, what about church? Panic! I wanted him to keep working as a police officer, where he was burned out and restless -- a conflict of interests, as he put it.

The home we loved (still adore) sold, although, we find ourselves relieved with much gratitude. We graciously received a full three-year scholarship...Thank you Lord! We will undoubtedly miss our friends and family. Nevertheless, they have been the backbone in affirming that we OUGHT TO GO...our cup runneth over -- we are truly blessed! Father Deacon Raphael, aka Lt. Kevin, retires after 20 years of service July 31, in addition to, we close on the house -- exactly one year from our trip to Alaska...uncanny!

I cannot promise that my panic hesitation with wavering doubt will not creep in from time to time...still, I stand amazed -- whether it be on the water or in a foot of rainwater -- I am in awe of God!

"...Truly You are the Son of God."

A note to self: "Do not dig up in doubt what you have planted by Faith"