By: Darrelyn L. Tutt

Fears recalled from childhood can be extremely entertaining in adulthood.
Thus, the story of the toilet crack.
My Aunt Evelyn was the most matronly, apronly, grandmotherly figure one could conjure up in the mind:
She was short, stout, and characterized by roundness everywhere.
I once overheard her assert energetically that she had never been on a diet in her life. Of this there could be no doubt and this humorous assertion continues to amuse me.
Her station in the kitchen was employed strategically, diligently, aromatically, and authoritatively.
Aunt Evelyn seriously knew what to do in a kitchen.
Not only did she make the best Swedish pancakes in the world;
She also understood little girls and housed a notable "playhouse" in the backyard.
The playhouse was a miniature version of a "big house" and in a little girl's mind this amounted to a substantial luxury and memory.
Aunt Evelyn housed me with beautiful childhood memories.
If only there hadn't been "the toilet."
Aunt Evelyn's toilet put the fear of God in me like nothing else.
So petrified and horrified by the thought of using it was I, that I would endure tummy-aches and abnormal bladder "holdings" to refrain from using it.
The problem with the toilet was that it housed a gigantic, off-the-charts Daddy Long Legs spider. The other problem was that I didn't know if the spider appeared only to "me" or if others saw him too.
I decided it was best to just not talk about him. What if "he" somehow heard me?
The Daddy Long Legs had legs which extended a good foot or better upward and reached almost to the top of the toilet seat.
And he never died or got flushed away.
The Daddy Long Legs was, in reality, a nasty porcelain crack that had "spider-webbed" with time and resembled an out-of-control windshield crack that needed to be taken care of.
In any event, a certain amount of stress was conjured up before ever arriving at Aunt Evelyn's on account of the "spider toilet" and a portion of the day's enjoyment was unfortunately diminished  because of this childhood fear.
My imagination would take me to places that no one wants to go, not even a grown-up.
I imagined being carried down into an infernal stinky "toilet hell" reeking of dark stinky material and rank in odor and other dark stuff.
I imagined being suffocated and swallowed up by the great Daddy Long Legs, and being held in his leggy clutches until the "great devouring" took place.
I imagined never coming out of the bathroom again and everyone wondering what had happened to Darrelyn.
Hmmm ...
The recounting of this story is hilarious in hindsight ... and yet fear is a recurring "Daddy Long Legs" story in our lives that isn't funny at all.
Some of us are dealing with "Daddy Long Legs" stories and "Daddy Long Legs" fears that seem to internally grow longer legs with time.
Satan works to magnify and make stronger and longer the cracks.
Christ works to remove and make brand new.
Tell your fear story to someone loving and good ... and begin with God.
He will lead you to beautiful individuals as he deems safest and best;
Or He will lead you on a "solo" flight that brings you nearer and nearer to Him.
It's all up to Him.
Recount what it is and who it is that makes you fearful;
And begin to assign special promises to it from God's word.
I'm not sure what the end may be for you or what shape the truth might take inside of you; but I know that with time, you will see the cracks for what they are, dear Reader.
And I know that in wanting this for you,
I will experience freedom in sharing more of me.
Christ loves us,
He gave His life for us ...
No cracks dividing.
"For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father."
Romans 8:15