The Acrobats

 Two long, sturdy strips of cloth hung from a fixed point above the stage. A broad-shouldered man and a lithe woman climbed these pieces of cloth with creative tricks and soon they were both high in the air while the polished wood floor of the stage was dangerously far below. Already, we were impressed, they did a few tricks and arranged themselves, and then…

They swung gracefully out over our heads, the long strands of cloth trailing. They flew, his larger frame behind hers, she leaning against him. They walked in the invisible air, side by side, stepping lightly and in synchronization, delicately pointing their toes. He took her in his arms, crossed her quickly over his body and in various dramatic skater’s poses, they continued to fly around and around above our heads. He let her go and caught her with his feet as our hearts jumped into our mouths.

I was struck with the thought, “I want to get married.”

To me, it was a beautiful picture of marriage, one that I wanted to imitate. 

It was beautiful, it was romantic. Yet, it was so dangerous. If he dropped her, if she fell…the results were unthinkable. 

If they fell, they would likely be killed, and if not, then grievously injured. Yet not only they were in danger, but those watching. The audience too could be injured: physically if they fell onto the audience, emotionally if they fell on the stage. Just like a failed marriage, not only would it hurt the couple, but all those near too. And think of the emotional guilt he would feel for having dropped his partner.

To fly like this required strength and trust. Both must possess these qualities, but the man especially the strength as he bore her weight and his own, and she the trust as he at times lifted or caught her as they swung through the air, almost touching the ceiling. 

In Ephesians 5:22-27, we learn, “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless,” (Ephesians 5:22-27). The wife is to submit to her husband. If I’m to submit to someone, I want a man I can trust with my life, just as this woman trusted him to catch her. The husband is to help his wife heavenward, just as the male acrobat lifted her, and helped her stay high on the cloths. 

~August 2014. Beijing, China.

Through my storm He reached out to me

I was reading some of my journal entries from this past year. It's interesting to look back and remember where I was and how I've grown.

I found an entry from a little while ago that I want to share. A few months ago I was feeling restless, unsettled, useless. With a need to do SOMETHING to fight it and fight my fears of growing into a boring old adult, I ran out into the warm, dark, night air and swung myself up into the maple. I enjoyed the feeling of pain as the sawn-off branch jabbed me hard in the torso and the rough bark scraped my wrists. I climbed higher into the tree and then stood still, leaning against the slender forked branches. I looked straight ahead and I saw a full white moon through a square frame of leaves and a lattice of trees in the distance. This little square was the perfect size for the snowy moon and it's white aura. The lovely shape of the leaves, black against the deep dark royal blue of night. Behind the leafy frame of pointed maple leaves, flat against the night sky like a delicate Chinese papercut rose the crisscrossing arches of tall trees beyond in other yards and behind the moon according to my depth perception. I took in this little picture and silently was thankful to God that in the middle of my restless, caged-up feelings, He gave me this picture. It was as if it was saying to me,"I'm here. I made this picture for you. Just you. It's tiny and personal. Just the way I often remind you I am here."

You see, for a detail-oriented person, the details mean so much.

The Details

Moss, Iceland

It is in the little things that I see God. In the tiny flowers, shiny acorns, lichen on rocks, and the multicolored sheen of a feather. When the timing and details work out. When He brings the right person along to comfort my lonely aching heart, or a stranger to get my vehicle out of a snowy rut, disentangle my gauchos from my bike chain (yes, that really did happen) or someone to walk me home in the dark. How could all these details that depend so much on the right timing or the right words at the right time have worked out just fine unless He was orchestrating them?

It's in these details that I see God's love and provision for me. It's also in the details that I learn of His existence.

Did God create the universe? Elementary! His fingerprints are all over creation. All evidence points to not only His existence, but His hand in crafting the universe and it's diversity.

On the molecular level, the intricacy of the details that have to work out just right for life to exist is astounding. There is no way they could have happened by chance.

If in my petty, day-to-day wishes, I don't get what I want or think I need, then I obviously didn't need them. He cares enough to teach me to be strong.

It's always been about the details for me. Small things are hugely important. It could be a beautiful day, and everything could be going my way, but if harmony was broken in some small way, it is as if a cavernous rift had opened.

Little things often upset me. The robe my mother gave me when I was a child was beautiful but it was itchy, and so was the long underwear. I cast them off, refusing to wear them ever again. I was a fussy baby: too hot, too cold, my clothes not soft enough. I fussed instead of slept unless my parents cradled me in their warm arms and I knew I was safe. How safe I find myself under the protection of my Heavenly Father!
When the details work out just so, it's like God is comfortingly laying his hand on my back, telling me that He is there, watching out for me. And who am I out of all the people in the world that He should care for me? Yet He is there, caring for all his children down to the minutiae of their lives, just as in mine.

Gullfoss, Iceland

As water flows over a cliff, it separates. The water descends in pieces, each sheet of water drops alone, yet together they sound the mighty roar of the cataract.  So may we all sound God's glory and might. Waterfalls speak to the mighty and terrifying power of God. Yet, they are made of tiny drops, and each drop is made of molecules, which are made of elements, which are made of protons, electrons, and neutrons, which, as some have begun to say, are made of something smaller still.

The details.The overwhelming, comforting, astonishing details! How I love them and how I love God for creating them and showing me His love through them.