Rewind #15: I Never Leave Your Hands

Original air date: 12Feb2010

I have asked a thousand ways
That You would take my pain away ...
I am trying to understand
How to walk this weary land;
Make straight the paths that crooked lie,
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine...

When my world is shaking,
Heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking,
I never leave Your hands.

"Your Hands" - JJ Heller

Every now and then I feel like I am digging a hole ... or maybe digging myself out of a hole .... and I’m digging and digging and digging, and then I look down and see that all I’ve been doing is moving dirt around. Maybe I just moved a bunch of dirt from one pile to the next pile - but when you step back and look you realize both piles are inside the hole you’re trying to dig out of. Kinda like shoveling the snow off the edge of the driveway only by putting it in the middle of the driveway. This would be fine if I was getting paid by the hour and I was trying to get rich --- but notso good if I am trying to dig myself out from under a thousand questions, doubts, emotions and hormones. With as much effort as it takes to get out from under a single one, if I find I have to deal with even a single one twice that’s just more overwhelming than I dare handle.  And I think I just discovered that not only have I only been moving dirt piles (not really shoveling them out,) but at the same time someone’s been standing on the edge of my hole and bulldozing dirt in. 

The little Dutch boy with his finger in the dam just turned around to realize that the levee broke anyway. Plugging that hole in the dam wasn’t really the best use of his time after all.

What boggles my mind is that I can still look around and recognize countless blessings, WAY more than I can acknowledge or show gratitude for. Maybe I am realizing that there is getting to be an equal gap -- I don’t feel that my blessings are just *ordinary* blessings, they are absolutely amazing and humbling. I guess it’s only realistic and fair that the same would be true for the opposite side of the aisle.

If only I could just pick up my marbles and go home. But, alas, we’re not playing marbles.