August 12 – “The flying corn husk”

It was the first time we gathered with believers at the massive center for worship in the far off Fields of Mann.  Unsure.  Discouraged.  Depressed.  Hopeful.  Frightened.  Worried.  All were emotions we carried forth bravely on our shoulders, yet none braver than the Queen herself.  She stood proud and strong amidst the turmoil churning inside her, always just below the surface, but always, as well, firmly under control.  That is until the choristers burst into song.  A song about trust and hope and confidence in the One who cares and provides.  It proved to be just a bit too much.  As the song continued I wiped the fresh dampness from near my eyes and gazed at the face of my Queen.  And there on her cheek were tears. Silent tears.  Slowly falling.  Unrestrained, yet oh, so dignified.  I placed my hand in hers and together we silently resolved to face our uncertain future together under the watch of the One Who Rules Even Queens.   And that's enough of that memory byte.    I have discovered once again that there is a fine line between "I don't care" and "I'm OK with whatever God brings to pass, really."  I desperately want the second to be what's inside of me.  But I found it kind of depressing being the "other guy."  I really didn't belong in San Antonio with Josh and his family, especially with Chris not there.  I sure didn't fit in with Chris and her parents in Bay City.  Our house doesn't even feel like home right now.  We haven't been it long enough after the storm for one thing.  Making sure Mom gets cared for is another.  Which is really not about Mom at all.  I don't mind it.  She sure took me to enough baseball practices and games.  It's really about Chris not being here.  I just plain miss her.   I was is one such reverie on the way home from Bay City yesterday.  Whining to myself and to God about one thing or another.  Figured that was the safe place to do it.  As I began to refocus on my surroundings, I noticed an object floating gently through the sky.  Too close for a UFO.  Too big to be a fast flying ladybug.  And it floated so gently, so majestically.  Back and forth.  Side to side.  A sudden, but not so sudden dip.  Then a graceful swirl.  That's the word.  Graceful.  It was so calming.  Beautiful blue sky.  Swaying object looming larger and larger as it neared the windshield.  But I didn't even notice the rapidly diminishing distance.  I was fascinated by the object.  Now long and just slightly bent near the center.  A dip.  Now but a speck in the vastness of the sky.  A swirl.  Now long again, perhaps a bit longer than before.  Time seemed to stand still.  Nothing else mattered but the swaying of the object.  Cruise control is a wonderful invention.  The road was perfectly straight.  The car's alignment was right on target.  And the object was so … graceful.  Back and forth.  Closer.  Dip.  Closer.  Swirl.  Closer.  Closer.  Closer.  Splat.  And with the splat I was shaken from my trance and threw my hand in front of my face.  Of course one hand remained on the steering wheel.  Even let out a muffled cry, though who would have heard an unmuffled one?  Ah.  The One who set the mysterious object to flight in the first place.  The One who heard my whines and no doubt with a grin and a chuckle in a way only He can grin and chuckle, Father-God sent me – from the vast storehouse of his creation - a flying corn husk to meet me where I was – driving on a country road amid fields and fields of corn – and let me know that the important thing in life is not where I am or what I do or even who is or is not with me at the time.  The important thing above all else is that Father-God wants to be relating with me – all the time.  It wasn't a burning bush, and it wasn't nearly so dramatic as leading Israel out of Egypt.  But for me, for that exact moment in time, that flying corn husk showed me that God was riding right there beside me.  And just "sittin' in" with Him is way more important than fittin' in anywhere else.   Psalms 8:3-4 says, "When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, 4 what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?"   Father, thank you for sending me that flying corn husk.  Forgive me for needing to be swatted in the windshield in the first place.  Help me trust you.  Amen.