Tip of My Iceberg

Part of our Colorado family flew in for a riotous weekend of fun and connecting. Beck, at five, isn’t accustomed to being surrounded by literal cousins by the dozens, so it’s been a learning curve for him of living in the loud and intense.

He’s done an amazing job of adapting.

Part of the fun is getting used to how his cousins play, what entertains them and gets their imaginations whirring. We’ve had this old bounce house for years that we can set up in the back yard as a diversion for the littles to help them let off steam when energy levels ramp up. They used to play inside, bouncing as the house was intended. Lately it’s been more of jumping on the house rather than in it, collapsing the walls and using their weight to crunch it down.

Quite literally they’re holding down the fort.

The only way the walls stay down is if they stay on them. Because it’s a blow-up contraption, the moment they hop off, the walls revert to their natural upright positions.

The fun is in holding them down and then leaping off with a kind of puffy push from the structure itself.

The original phrase, “hold the fort”, came from a military order wired by General William Tecumseh Sherman in 1864 to General John M. Corse at Allatoona during the Civil War. It was to hold out for relief to come, a promise that they’d not been forgotten and would soon have reinforcements. It’s been a sentiment used since the Middle Ages when trusted men were left to protect the fort against attack when the greater group was away.

We each deal with “forts” that we’re attempting to keep solid and upright, working to keep things as they should be. It might be setting up an actual home and making it safe or committing to a job and doing it well to become trusted and respected. It might be relationships that we’re investing in, building them to last no matter if we’re close or geographically separated. It might be new challenges that come along or unexpected changes in our lives.

But our “forts” can morph into the things that are hard to deal with, issues greater than our capacity to handle them. Unexpected illness, a job loss, the death of a loved one, or uncontainable fears that unhinge us. Holding tight to who we are and what we know can be difficult in times like these, when life feels bigger and harder than we want to acknowledge.

King David, in the midst of the attacks of his enemies, wrote:

“The Lord is my light and my salvation–so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?” Psalm 27:1

Again, David wrote:

“I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.” Psalm 40:1-2

God is fully aware of everything that happens, and as a loving Father, He seeks to strengthen His children with His truth and presence. He never promises freedom from pain and troubles–it’s impossible to live a pain-free life in a broken world when each of us–all of us–deal with our own mess. He is the One who will hold the fort for us, the One who pours out His strength on us so we can deal with the harshness of life.

What the kids did was a picture of what the world can do to us, holding us back from being all we can be. They each have parents–and grandparents–who will jump to their aid when things go awry, holding their forts for them.

Who holds the fort for you?