can we cross now?

i received an email the other day that contained several letters that children had written to god. one of these caught my attention. “you don’t have to worry about me. i always look both ways.” dean

i often think that i have things under control. actually, that isn’t really true. i often think the opposite – that i never have things under control. my life seems routine, but chaotic and random and rarely on course. it’s just that i want to think that i have things under control.

as i parent, i know what it’s like to worry about my children. and to be honest, i really do want god to worry about me. why? because i want the attention from the one i seek to know in deeper ways. i’m tired of acting like i have it all together and that i can make it on my own – because i can’t. i’ve been broken too many times to know that i just can’t do it. i’m still broken in many areas of my life and i need help healing, moving, discerning, etcetera.

now, i do look both ways, but perhaps i’m so anxious to get to the other side of wherever, that often i see only what i want to see. however, god can see those things approaching that i miss. and he is able to grab me before i take that fatal step. and yet i don’t think he ever does grab me. in fact, i don’t think he ever keeps me from moving. he may warn me through an inner voice, the voice or action of a friend, or some kind of natural (or unnatural) phenomenon, but he never forces me to do (or not to do) anything.

it’s interesting, because i feel like i spend most of my time on the curb. no, i think i spend most of my time moving from one side to the other. and yet when i finally do make it across, i often find myself on a median, with another crossing in front of me. (my life is a life of medians.) it’s frustrating and i find that while my body is moving, my mind is worrying about being run over. i’m questioning my decisions all of the time – when what i really want is just to get to the other side and find a bit of happiness and joy.

so, i think that when i reach the other side, i’ll find happiness and joy, right? but i rarely make it to the other side. and i sit here, at a crossroads (or on the median), asking myself these questions. can’t there be joy in the crossing? can’t there be joy in the waiting on the curb? can’t i just grab the hand of my father and let him lead me when it’s safe?

i really want to take my father’s hand, and i try, but it doesn’t seem that easy. i don’t always feel his grasp and i wonder if he is really there or not. and why wouldn’t he be there? does he want me to try this thing by myself? did i forget to tell him where i was planning on going? and doing? did i not tell him on purpose? well, i’m telling him now.

god, i need to be led. i need you to worry about me. i need to know that you’re thinking about me. that you care about me. and i need help trusting that you know better than i do.

can we cross now?