Fear, Faith, Fact, and Friction

Is faith truly the opposite of fear? If we know all the facts about what we are indeed afraid of, should that knowledge resolve the friction between fantasy and reality and quell the fear? I accept that 'part' of my humanness is existing and surviving in a universe of many more unknowns than knowns. Fear reminds me that I don't like it; however, acceptance does not rely on my approval or understanding--in part or in whole.Being a child has its advantages, and one of the disadvantages (more so seen through the eyes of an adult)is the naivety that accompanies youth. Being a parent has taught me more about myself and the world around me, than any other life experience.I have always been aware of the burden and powerless-feeling part of fear. Fear is not only what it is, but more so what I make it out to be or turn it into--facts or not withstanding. As a child, I was not as concerned with the rational behind a fear--much less behind anything else for that matter. I have always been petrified of bees. The first time I was stung was as an older adult, so that was not part of the factual basis for the origin of the fear. Bees had an immediate and deeper connection to me that I couldn't explain to any one else. It was the: big eyes, dangling and skinny legs,insidiously-quick movement, and my instinctive-belief that these creatures displayed an attitude of brilliant-entitlement. They were 'the boss of me'. I remember during the age of 3, watching over the summer a wasp's nest form outside my top bedroom window. It got so huge that it began to spread open into the top crack of the inside part of the frame. Eventually, the wasps made the inside of the window almost as much a part of home as the outside. As often as I pointed this out to my parents, they'd just as often reply
with the same response: " If you don't bother them, they won't bother you." During the day I would curiously and cautiously watch them from the doorway of my tiny room, which both my younger brother and I shared. (Very little ever seemed to phase him)I was glad that the bees slept too, yet I learned to sleep with one eye open My father eventually sprayed the 'little demons' to death, and the room was off limits for the day. After years of the same insanity, I began to take matters into my own hands. My actions mostly consisted of running away, but soon I got the hang of using the can of Raid, as well the longest, stiffest weapon I could find and wrap my little hands around. In the ensuing years, I : jumped off roofs, swerved my car into on-coming traffic, halted outdoor performances, knocked over good friends to the ground, and frightened anyone in my presence to death when they were unfortunately in my company, when a bee flew onto the scene. Other than getting stung a few times since, nothing has changed. As for fear being the opposite of faith, all I can say is that I know that: "There is a God and I'm not Him, and hope that bees are not-as well.