Balancing Acts

For the past three weeks or so I’ve had this song on my mind. And before you think it’s something moving, along the lines of Amazing Grace, or a tear jerker by Enya, I’ll settle the score now and disclose it’s anything but.  In fact, I don’t even know what the song is entitled, but I do know it could be found blasting from the loud speakers of a small town circus tent, before they went hand in hand with animal rights activists. It’s that spooky symphony they play in horror movies when things have gone awry.  Think scary clown face. Crazy hair.  We’ll call it the circus symphony.  It plays in the back drop of my life when things get a little too hectic, and I’m found trying to juggle one too many balls. Scary clown face and crazy hair often times, by the end of the day, still applicable.

It’s that time of year isn’t it? With school starting for your little ones, or yourself.  Projects beginning. New developments.  Harvesting of wheat. Cleaning out the pool.  Packing for that trip. Unpacking from another.  Starting that new job.  Ending the last one.  It’s a season of realignment.  Achieving unmet goals, taking one step closer to starting them.  Everyone the ring leader of their own circus.  Chalking feet for acrobats. Letting lions loose from  cage. Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls…

I know your juggling too and I’m wondering what you’re doing about your balancing act.  Like me, have your breaths been a little shorter this time of year? Your patience a little thinner? Are you staring up at the colorful spheres nervously anticipating that one will be dropped? Or they all will? Are you even too scared to start the juggling?

I’ve had God in the back seat this last little while as I pull out the driveway of life, in a hurry to get nowhere fast.  I do this when confronted with change.  Often. Switching of seasons both in weather and in life, for me at least can look like one giant circus act with God as my spectator.  I leave the ring sometimes having performed well, but often times, wound so tight that the act was not enjoyable.  The balancing lacks grace, spirit, and love.  Instead it’s capped with striving, irritability, and angst. The clowns don’t fit in the car.  The elephant, too large to fit on his stoop. The circus symphony playing loudly. Record screeching. Needle stuck.

But, today, in the spotlight of my circus with the chaos in the background, people spilling popcorn,  drinks sticky, tipped over, tickets tearing; I set down all of my juggling.  All of it. The blue ball, the yellow, and yes, the red.  Even the red.  I peer out in the audience unashamed that my act has ended.  I take my top hat off. It's silent.  Shoes, echoing across the dirty floor.  He sees in my eyes the pressure of the performance and he invites me to come out of the ring.  Are you sure? I question. His eyes welcoming. I scramble to find the dropped balls. Because I need to bring them to him. I cannot let them go. 

We sit together in the bleachers.  I tell him the importance of the colored items I embrace.  He holds them with me. They are important to him too, he tells me.  All of them.  Especially the red.   I feel the angst slide from my shoulders. My breath restored again. My patience revived. Because he's got it.  This balancing act.  He's holding it all.

~Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about what happens to you. 1 Peter 5:7