I know that in the total space/time continuum, my life is barely a puff of steam. That’s a good one — steam. I’ve been steaming since February 24 when I was popped like a pimple out of what I thought was my last and best job, having fallen into the trap once again of believing my vocation to be my identity. That’s only one piece of the puzzle. More than just these last few months has been a puzzle, pieces laying out, being moved around, trying to fit one in where it doesn’t belong.
Back in Mom’s house, jigsaw puzzles were part of our entertainment. Card games happened frequently but jigsaw puzzles were ongoing games of solitaire. The card table would be set up, the box shaken for some unknown reason — I suppose to damage the edges — and over as many days as required, the mixed up pieces of yet another puzzle would lay there motionless and staring at the ceiling, waiting for someone to sit and study colors and shapes and slip maybe one or two at a time into place. Sometimes a piece would be tested in several locations several times before it was fitted in the right spot. And there was that last lonesome puzzle piece that came in last yet caused the greatest celebration. The puzzle, solved and assembled, would be on display for a day or so until all had seen and admired it or until the card table was determined to be in the way or needed for something else. The completed one was unceremoniously dismantled and stored away in the closet with the rest of whatever needed to be recycled in a yard sale. Come to think of it, Mom being the squirrel that she was, yard sales were something she went to.
Today is a work day plopped into the middle of what should be a four day holiday weekend ending on the holiday, July 4th. Some companies float a holiday in there to fill it out knowing most employees are going to use vacation hours anyway, shrinking the staff and the productivity, but others’ doors are open for business as usual. Being on extended holiday, it falls on me to clean up the place as we are entertaining tomorrow. I just sat down to check my email this morning and (here comes the cliche) "while I was at it," I checked a few cyber friends in the blogasphere.
One of my regulars is Irene Q in Malaysia. She is 20-something and struggling with her walk of faith. Many friends support her but still she reaches out for answers. In her most recent post Follow Your Heart a friend advises her to proceed with faith knowing that God will direct her steps, to do what she wants to knowing that her desire to do right instead of wrong is firmly in place. You can read my comment on her page or you can read it here:
I made a simple observation this last Saturday. A friend of mine has
a two year old daughter with Downs Syndrome. She is still in the process of
learning to walk so to keep up the good work her parents put her on the
floor often. She was standing and holding onto her daddy’s pants and
vibrating pretty much from head to toe. Daddy was looking down with
love in his daddy eyes.
"Mark, why is she shaking?"
"You know when
you’re tensing all your muscles that after a while they shake?"
Balancing is still a little bit harder work for Caroline but daddy was
watching, ready to catch, ready to pick up and hold so she could relax
in his arms before working at walking again.
I’m glad I checked your post so I could preach to myself.
I guess our walk of faith is something of an ebb and flow process.
If we progress at all, we’ll need to alternate between Daddy’s pant leg
and His arms.
Like I said, you would think after having lived as long as I have, I would have remembered that little truth. In the midst of my steam, I forgot that Daddy is looking down with loving Daddy eyes, ready to steady me, ready to hold. I have an interview the day after tomorrow for a data processing job at the same place that offered me the customer service position. I am still stalled in the panic mode of wanting to know God’s perfect absolute will. Now! Now, God! Before I accept another job that You have to yank me out of! This puzzle-piece-in-the-wrong-spot scenario is as tiresome as it is painful!
It is time, yea, past time to hold up my arms and let Daddy pick me up.