One of my oldest and dearest friends, Gary, is also my agent. When we first started working together, I noticed that he would send me texts and emails in the late-night/wee-morning hours—11 p.m., 2 a.m., etc.—which I would respond to when I got up with the chickens at 4 or 5 a.m. But then sometimes he would email at 6 a.m. And he usually did check-in calls in the afternoon. So I finally said to him: “Look, I can’t help noticing that you never seem to sleep, so I need to ask you a personal question. And I promise I’ll still be your friend if the answer is ‘yes.’ Are you a vampire?”
Recently, Gary pointed out that I have been responding to texts and emails at all hours, including times when I would normally be snoozing . . . which means I’m not snoozing . . . which means I’m stressing. When your agent, your husband, and your mother all tell you that you don’t handle stress well, you should probably listen.
Actually, I’m not stressing so much as pondering. I have a lot on my mind, a lot of things I’m trying to sort out and make decisions about. It’s all good—but it’s all there in my head, swirling around. When I was editing stories for Recovery Campus magazine, one of the essayists who wrote about her experience with addiction recovery used the phrase “the tornado in my head.” I know exactly what she means. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got an F-5 swirling around up there, and it’s generating a lot of debris.
This morning, I revisited several New Testament passages—all from the Apostle Paul—which I would stitch onto a sampler if I could sew. I’ll have to settle for writing them on Post-It notes in the Story Shack. The first comes from an AMAZING shipwreck story in Acts 27. Paul, a prisoner, has been put aboard a ship bound for Rome. While crossing the Adriatic Sea, the ship encounters a northeaster—hurricane-force winds—and the sailors turn to Paul for leadership. Having battled the storm for 14 days, the sailors sense they are nearing land and fear they are about to be dashed against the rocks in shallow water. So they dropped four anchors from the stern and prayed for daylight (v. 29). I love that phrase. When all seems lost and you don’t know what to do, drop anchor and pray for daylight—anchor yourself to God and pray for daylight, for guidance and clarity.
My other Post-It Scripture comes from Paul’s letter to the church at Corinth: For I do not want you to be ignorant of the fact, brothers, that our forefathers were all under the cloud and that they passed through the sea” (1 Corinthians 10:1). He’s referring to Israel’s exodus from Egypt, when God sent a cloud to guide them by day and parted the Red Sea so that they could escape the pursuing Egyptian army. Whatever personal wilderness we might be wandering through, we are “under the cloud” of God's love and grace. And no matter what enemies are at our heels—sickness, struggles, disappointment, fear—God has the power to part the sea and make a way through, even when we can’t see one.
Drop anchor and pray for daylight . . .
because you’re under the cloud and will pass through the sea.
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