Have
you noticed the caterpillars?
They
seem to be everywhere this year. Every time I rake I send a couple of them
flipping onto their backs in their c-shaped you-can't-see-me posture and have
to apologize for disrupting their day. Maybe they like this fantastic weather
as much as we do, I don't know. But they're out and about everywhere you look.
I
am reminded of autumn out in the country where we used to live. Each fall we
were treated to an invasion of inch-long critters, fuzzy hairs sticking out
every which way, charging across country roads, on their way to fulfill their
bugly destiny. I would try to drive slowly when I saw them, veering to avoid
squishing the determined little guys who obviously had somewhere important to
be.
On our way home from school one day the kids and I stopped to examine a big, rust-colored fellow. He happily climbed onto the fingers I offered him. Slowly the caterpillar sniffed around my hand, curious about this new environment, looking perplexed when the ground beneath him began trembling as I fought to control the giggles brought on by his many tickling feet.The
kids' eyes shone as they examined our new friend. His fur (fur on a bug – isn’t
God awesome?) looked soft and inviting as he sat calmly in my palm. One of the
kids reached out a finger. Touch! Instantly the caterpillar (he looked like a
George to me) was off and running. And could he run! He raced up my arm and
would have flung himself off my elbow into the great unknown of my van’s
interior if I hadn’t put out another hand for him to tumble onto. He picked
himself up and kept on running, from hand to hand to hand to hand as I worked
to keep up with him.
George
finally slowed his pace to catch a breather, until a curious finger reached out
again, and, touch! and George was off and running. Running, running, a blur of
fuzz and little legs, from hand to hand to hand.
I
said softly, “Where ya goin’, George?”
Poor
George really thought he was getting somewhere as he ran and ran and ran, but
all the time he was in one place – my hand.
........
I
think I understand you, Georgie boy. I run and run, too. I’m in a rush to do
what needs to be done, to get to the next Big Event, to reach tomorrow. I push
blindly forward, hoping that wherever it is I’m going will be better than where
I’ve been, and neglecting to see where I am. And I’m pretty sure that I’m not
really getting anywhere at all.
Sometimes,
of course, I stop running. Like when that small child with bright eyes is
suddenly in high school and I realize how quickly time flies and how fast
children grow. Or when a friend struggling with real hurts and worries notices
that I'm blue over some petty problem and brings me a bowl of raspberries to sweeten
my day. Or when a giant moon stretches a beam of light across a big water
toward my toes and invites me to take a quiet breath. Then the nowhere race
stops and I look around me, surprised by the stillness, and see where I am.
I
halt, take a breath, and see that I am, as I have always been, in one place...safely
in my Father’s hand.
Any
moment, I know, I will be off and running again, but in the pauses, in those
precious, sometimes frightening moments of stop-in-your-tracks clarity, I am
able to see where I am, and where I’ve been, and where I’m going. Through it
all, for every footstep of my sometimes frantic, sometimes giddy race through
life, I am held, carefully and lovingly, by my Heavenly Father.
He
who gave me life once with the creation of the world, twice with the creation
of my body and thrice with the death of His own Son in my place now treasures
me and sustains me, even when I don’t remember He’s there. Whether I’m racing
off to nowhere or sitting still and savoring the moment, I am securely held in
the hands of a God who gave a Son who stretched out a hand to accept a nail for
me.
........
Go
on, George, run all you want. You won’t get very far, but that’s ok – I’ve got
you. Just be sure to take a break once in a while, and see where you are. See? You’re
in my hand.
First published in The Alpena News on November 19, 2016.
