Yesterday evening, Beth and I went to pick up an antique desk from a friend who isn’t using it anymore. We placed it in the back of the truck, tied it down and headed home. We were a little over an hour from the house when a few rain drops hit the window. “Uh-oh!” we thought and both said. It was raining and we didn’t have the desk covered for protection against water. The sprinkles stopped and we breathed a sigh a relief. As we continued the drive we talked about how most days, especially evenings, we wanted rain and were thankful. However, because we had the desk we desired the rain to “go away and come again some other day.” We both agreed we were fickled human beings.
Fickled is a funny word but it can be a difficult obstacle to overcome. I’ve known and have been fickled in my life, vacillating back and forth between opinions, ideas, and judgments. Most of the time being fickled can be overlooked but there should be, must be, things upon which we would stake our possessions, livelihood, and lives. If we are fickled about everything then we will stand for nothing.
This week, perhaps more than any other week in recent history, being fickled about bias, hate, bigotry, and racism has been on full display. I believe these are areas in which there can be no wiggle room, no area for retreat. This is where people must draw the line, stand at the risk of everything because if we don’t there may be nothing left to protect.
Yesterday I mowed with the riding lawn tractor and today I went out to use the push mower to go places the big mower can’t go. I used the last of the gas out of the can yesterday but for some reason, I thought there was plenty in the push mower. I was wrong. I grabbed my keys and wallet and headed for the gas station. It was nice weather so I put the windows down.
On the way back I looked out my passenger seat window and there was a spider, on one strand of webbing, attached from the passenger mirror to the door. It looked as though it was holding on for dear life! However, what stunned me was the webbing held. The force of the wind was flowing around it and the webbing strong enough to hold it.
I watched and reflected on the strategy of the spider. It wasn’t trying to go forward or backward. It was still, trusting its “anchors” not to break.
The spider is a teacher. Often times, when stormy seasons and turbulent times rock our lives we want to retreat to some place safe or push ahead and get it over as quickly as possible. Perhaps, instead of using energy to try to avoid the difficulties we should be still and trust our anchor to hold fast.
I guess the question would be; “What are we anchored to?”