Which Way?
Picture a big hollow stump, underwater: flat rim, heart rotted out. Two barefoot girls can straddle the edge, toes curled. They must steady each other when fish eggs slime the surface, catch hold of each other when waves wash in.
Using the stump as a platform, my childhood friend and I invented a game: “Spur-of-the-Moments.”
- Hold your breath
- Submerge, jackknifing knees
- Rocket skyward, striking multiple poses (points for the zaniest)
- Ta-da! Splashdown
Failure to stick the landing meant flailing through milfoil, and muck, snootfuls of billowing silt, moments of sputtering.
Twisting, mid-leap, sometimes I lost my bearings. Which way was home?
Jump cut to current politics: nationwide waves of dismay, hope, anger, dread, triumph, loss. An old tongue twister comes to mind: A skunk sat on a stump. The skunk thunk the stump stunk; but the stump thunk the skunk stunk.
Which way is up?
My pastor reminds me, “What God builds will last.”
Despite urgency, transitory players, perceived obstacles. Despite hollow declarations and erosive backchat. Threats and reprisals. Fluid truth.
Generous God, give me the long view.
For me, yearning for what’s eternal means trust plus action:
eschew fear,
enact contagious kindness,
emulate bold hope.
In other words, align with the life and teachings of Christ, whose earthly days among friends and foes alike both inspire and challenge me. Sometimes hourly.
The old stump game was wildly impulsive: hasty, unthinking, rash. Also . . . fun. Somewhere between my best impulse and worst reactions there must be a potent, if precarious, balance point. A shot at delight. Freedom from feeling grieved, angry, jaded. Daily diminished by worry.
Perhaps a prayer for graced spontaneity?
Dear Maker and Lover of Trees, grow my integrity—minus distortion and irony. Grant me taproot faith when the figurative waters around me deepen and roil.
Here’s how The Message voices the Savior’s concern for us:
“Are you tired? Worn out? . . .
Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.
“Learn the unforced rhythms of grace” (Matt. 11:28-29).
Harder times ahead seem inevitable. How I appreciate upbeat friends like you! Your comments and presence buoy my spirits—no matter what fellow voters decide or who wins public office.
Sediment happens. Amid the campaign muckraking, let’s point each other toward calm waters. No need to be sucked under. Let’s seek wisdom. Love well. Then, take the next leap.
“And let us consider how we may spur one another on
toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together,
as some are in the habit of doing,
but encouraging one another—and all the more
as you see the Day approaching” (Hebrews 10:24-25 NIV).
Amid candidates out stumping and hair-trigger tensions smoldering, which way is home? What helps you, en route, to sustain balance?
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Upbeat People, Unsung Transitions
Underwater: Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash
Chipmunk in hollow stump: Photo by Leila Boujnane on Unsplash