Tip of My Iceberg

You’d think if I knew there was a good to excellent chance of eating my words, I’d choose them with a little more care. With thought to what they might taste like coming back at me.

There’s always that chance that things I’ve said will be used as a reminder that my walk doesn’t always match my talk.

Lately it’s felt as if that’s happening a lot.

Like this past week.  When daughter Debbie ended up in the ER.

My kids have been involved with soccer for huge portions of their lives. Even now, with all of them out of school, they take the opportunity to play pick-up games or indoor soccer. Wednesday night, Debbie and Jeremy, my son-in-law, played a tough indoor team.

Playtime ended when Deb stuck her right leg out to block a hard line drive of a kick.

The force bent her ankle in and knocked her off her feet. She landed funny.

And her ankle swelled like a balloon.

I was babysitting my grandkids. Got a text from Heather. They were on their way to the ER. The folks at indoor soccer believed she’d broken her ankle.

I didn’t handle it well.

I talk a lot about trust and rest. That God is with us always. That He is involved with all that happens. His peace passes understanding.

I do believe that. With all  my heart.

You’d have been hard pressed to see such trust in me that night. Waiting at the house. Not hearing if anything was happening at the ER. Knowing it could easily be hours before she was even seen.

I was a mom in major worry mode. All those years of practice came to bear on the efficiency with which I worried. The bullet points of concern flowed:

*She’s supposed to leave for a year-long mission trip to Puerto Rico in less than a week. How will that happen with her needing crutches to get anywhere?

*Was it broken? Torn ligaments? A bad sprain?

*She’s standing up in her sister’s wedding in a month. Will she walk down the aisle? Hop? Crutch?

None of these are life or death issues. But it bothered me that panic is where my head and heart went. First.

I know better.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve begun to believe I should be getting better at doing the trust thing. That my demeanor should be calm and peaceful all the time because I know Jesus.

That’s just not true.

It’s times like these that remind me of how weak I am. How unable I am to trust well. To believe without wavering the truths of the Bible.

Those truths are infallible. I am not.

Jesus understands that weakness in me. And doesn’t condemn me. Instead, He offers His strength.

“‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’ So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.”   2 Corinthians 12:9

I will continue to fall to panic and fear. I know I’m weak.

But Jesus is strong in spite of my weakness. He’s my strength in all things. At all times.

That’s a truth that won’t be broken.

Or sprained.

All that went out the window.