Quiet Courage

We’ve all seen acts of courage on the television: firemen entering a burning building; soldiers pulling injured comrades to safety; a rescuer who dangles on a cable beneath a helicopter to pluck someone from a flood. These are, in my opinion, major acts of courage.
What is courage? I think it is being afraid, but carrying on despite your fear. In the examples above, the people would probably say they were just doing their job. What about quiet courage? I use the same description as above, but it is more personal. Here is the image that comes to my mind when I think of quiet courage.
Liz, my wife, is deathly afraid of spiders. She can walk into a room and know, instantly, that there is a spider somewhere in the room. It may be the smallest spider you’ve ever seen, but she will know it’s there.
We were in Fiji a few years back. One place we stayed at was the Namale Plantation. The folks who ran it at that time told us of an attraction we might like to see. It was a blowhole, a formation in the reef that acted like a geyser when the waves crashed against the shore. It sounded interesting, so we set out the next morning to have a look.
The path wandered through a meadow, between some small trees. We had only taken a few steps when we noticed that huge spiders had built webs in the branches of almost every tree. Needless to say, that was as far as we went.
Later that afternoon Liz said she would like to try getting to the blowhole again. I was surprised, but agreed. When we got to the meadow where the “spider” trees were, she kept her eyes on the ground and kept walking. I was very proud of her, but we weren’t finished yet.
The final leg of the journey, we discovered, led through a tangle of trees. The path was virtually a tunnel. We could only imagine what lay ahead. Liz stopped dead in her tracks and stood staring into the tunnel. She didn’t want to go any further, and I wasn’t about to force her. Who knew how many spiders might be lurking in the darkness?
Finally I said we should go back, and I turned to retrace our steps. I hadn’t gone far before I realized Liz wasn’t with me. I looked back and saw that she had picked up a long branch and was sweeping the air in front of her as she slowly advanced into the tunnel! She was afraid of what might be in there, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her!
I walked back and gave her a hug, then took the branch from her hands. I swept the way, and we got to the blowhole.
It was interesting, and I’m sure we have pictures of it somewhere, but what I remember most about that day was the quiet courage my sweetie displayed. She is the bravest person I know.