Grasshopper

I walked out to the end of the dock with the "battleship" I had made by hammering nails into scrap pieces of wood. In my other hand was a poor, unsuspecting grasshopper, struggling to free himself from my grasp. I knelt on the dock and reached down to place the battleship on the water, then set the grasshopper on top to captain his new ship. It took a few tries to convince my little friend to stay on board - it could have been exhaustion that finally won him over. After all, an insect is no match for an eleven-year-old tomboy on a mission. I laid on my stomach on the dock and gave the ship a gentle push, then rested my chin on my hands while I watched it drift away. I would have supplied the captain with oars had I thought he'd appreciate the gift, but I knew better. His path was now up to the wind and chance.

This year has been full of very high highs and very low lows. I've experienced the exhilaration of setting and reaching big goals. I've faced, though not necessarily conquered fears. I've been horrified by a neighborhood tragedy that introduced me to my first bout of real depression, and my first real panic attack. I've had friends who endured, friends who only passed through, and friends who were never real to begin with. The best times always had to do with my family and my friends - the real ones.

The worst times always came down to my search for control in an out-of-control world. People say it all the time. Life is messy. For some reason, when I hear that, the version of "messy" that comes to my mind is more like a kitchen after a baking spree. A mess that is obviously going to result in something wonderful that is already starting to smell delicious. A mess that a little time and elbow grease will clean up good as new. In reality, life's messiness is not nearly as fun. There may be disappointment, heartache, pain, and devastating loss. It does not smell delicious. It usually stinks.

I've struggled with my faith a lot over the last year. I've been angry at God, angry at people, and often angry at myself. While I'm told - and I know deep down - that God is in control and that He knows where all of this is going, I have been constantly battling the nagging question, can He really be trusted?

He is consistently holding on to me while I've been struggling and fighting against Him every step of the way. I'm sure that, in His own way, he's whispering to me, "be still little Grasshopper, I've got you."