We have chickens. Or should I say, chicken. We have one remaining, lone ranger survivor, Phyllis. No longer laying eggs—at least, none that we know of—Phyllis, has become the lady of the manor, tugging at our heart strings, making us chuckle whenever and wherever she chooses to appear. And my husband, Jerry, pampers her.
Adjacent to the barn and chicken coop is Jerry’s art studio. To make Phyllis feel less lonely—and I suppose to keep predators at bay—Jerry leaves his radio on talk radio twenty-four/seven, allowing the low babble of voices, much like that of elevator music, to wash over him while he works; and over Phyllis while she does what only chickens can do.
It used to be just once in a while that Jerry would report back the latest hot topic of news. With each passing day, though, more often than not, something catches his attention that he feels he must bring home to me. It’s hardly ever good.
You’ve heard it. Politicians railing at each other, spinning “facts” and opinions, leaving what is really true, lost in the mix. Not taking the time to listen, or to seemingly care, they slash at one another with words and innuendo that do little to heal.
Crimes of passion, stabbings, beatings, shootings, human trafficking, and anything that demeans humanity, daily assaults our hearts and heads.
Violence, like a tidal wave on the brink of crushing us—the rumor of it, if not the reality—affects us more than we know or allow ourselves to think. It’s no wonder a sense of anxiousness prevails.
Thankfully, I have never experienced a tidal wave, but loving the ocean as I do, whenever I’m there, you can find me with my grown-up kids riding the waves as much as I dare. The smells, sounds, and most of the time, the thrill of catching the wave just right, and riding it onto the shoreline is exhilarating. When I miss the mark, though, if the wave doesn’t knock me over, I can count on it to catch and throw me into a violent tumble where I lose my bearings of what’s up or down—a sense of helplessness taking over, just for a moment—until the wave sets me free.
That feeling of not knowing whether I’m coming or going, right-side up or upside down, happens in my life as well. Circumstances, like the ocean waves that come one after another, seem to beat my sun-shiny resolve to ride them out, into helplessness. Hopelessness is not too far behind.
I am not alone in this. All of us face those moments. Jesus’ disciples did. In Mark 4:35-39, we read that when a fierce storm suddenly came up, the disciples were helpless with fear. And when the waves began breaking over the boat, terrified they would die, hopelessness followed.
Waking Jesus, they cried, “We’re going to drown. Don’t you care?”
I can’t tell you how many times I have prayed words that are much the same.
“Don’t You see, Lord? My friend is sick….”
“Don’t You care, Lord? I’m afraid….”
“Don’t You know, Lord? My children….”
The truth is, He does. And as He reminded the disciples by calming the wind and the waves, to have faith in Him, He reminds us—when we least expect it—by placing peace in our hearts. We just need to let Him. (See Colossians 3:15)
Kimberly
Heavenly Father, only You can calm my heart and only You, can work in me, to rest and trust in You. Please take the reins, Lord and cause me to let this happen. Thank You, Lord. In Jesus name. Amen.
When Jesus woke up, he rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Silence! Be still!” Suddenly the wind stopped, and there was a great calm.” -Mark 4:39 NLT
