“I need all the help I can get.”
I say that on the regular and I know it. I need to shield myself from the worrisome realities of this world. I need a safe buffer, I need to do what I can to help my own “hemming in” a mindset that says no to fear.
I don’t know any country songs anymore; no more singing songs about good times, lost loves or even reminiscing with some Eagles, Clapton or Stevie.
I do keep my Phillip Phillips handy because his voice makes me happy and soulful when I need it.
But, I worship on Sunday.
I need it and it’s an answer to a kind calling of me to return, to rest.
I cling to my quiet spaces that welcome big or tiny thinking. I pray and I listen to songs about believing in God, redemption, beginning again, courage and the assurance of God. I do all of these things because I know I need them.
I’m not able on my own.
On my own I write scary stories, I anticipate the bad news by the ringtone. I observe the reactions of others, stand prone to defend my tender self. I “armor up” I suppose in a not always healthy way. When I’m not trusting I feel my breath in a knot in the center of my chest.
To trust without knowing feels like risk for me. To go one step farther not knowing the location of the sudden ledge is not comfortable for me.
To only know what I am to know in the story of another makes me uneasy. I squirm in my seat wanting to see how I can prepare for the ending.
I sometimes need to know what isn’t mine to know and if I’m honest, it’s more about my lack of understanding than it is concern for another.
I don’t like not knowing. It feels like risk for me.
Trusting God feels risky.
Then I remember to consider the ravens, the way He made them. He tells us we are worth more.
“Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”
Luke 12:24-25 ESV
Last week, my granddaughter and I were cooped up from the rain and cold. We went window to window to get an idea of outdoors. I spied a big bird, black as coal and shiny and we tracked it together from front yard to open field to sky.
“Bird.” I said to the baby.
And then, she replied in a sweet soft utter…
“Bird”. I smiled and held her close.
Childlike observation, trust not yet tainted by fear.
Consider the bird through a baby’s discovery.
Trust like a baby. Faith like a child, fearlessness because of belief in Jesus.
Risk like the ravens. Confidence like a happy sparrow. Peace like a lily in an open green field. Plenty like a pauper with more than enough for breakfast.
Continue. Continue and believe.
Linking up with others here who are writing about risk. https://fiveminutefriday.com/2020/02/20/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-risk/