The World in His Hands

Bucky

We have a new calf around our place. He's a week old Jersey baby, bought as a replacement for seven-month-old Sooner, who is way overdue for weaning. (We milk the lazy way--let the calf do it until we actually need milk, then shut him up overnight, milk what we want that next morning, and hand his mother back to him until our milk jug runs low again).

Baby Bucky has no worries. Well, perhaps he did when the farmer separated him from his birth mama and when we loaded him up for the trip to our place. But the moment his new mama, Rosie, set eyes on him, his world became stable once more. So there he is on the spring pasture, bouncing around, stopping by the milk bar ever so often, happy as a--well, as a calf released from the stall, as the saying goes. If something scares him, he high-tails it for the security of her shadow. That's a good picture for me. Rosie is there, so he has no needs that won't be met and no fears she cannot calm, just by her presence in his world. He trusts and lives, and life is beautiful.

That provokes me in a good way. I'm not a worrier, as a general rule. In fact, sometimes I border on denial. Yes, and I'd rather do that than steep myself in the bad things that are happening or could happen, and "what if's" of the scarier sort. Mostly, I don't waste much time or angst on the state of the Union or the world in general, because I have confidence that the One who created it all is not perplexed or stressed over the situation. He has the perfect solution to what ails our planet, and He's going to turn the whole mess into a glorious triumph.

But in spite of this overall perspective, I tend to forget His amazing-ness when I think about people I love and how desperately I want them to make choices that will enrich rather than endanger their health and happiness. Concerns--worries--loom over me like a midwest thunderstorm, complete with rumblings of thunder and jolts of lightning.

But here's what I'm pondering this week: Why carry around a load of nagging what-ifs, when the One who hung the stars and can create something out of nothing is still alive? If God's not worried, I guess there's really no reason for me to be, either. Novel thought.

What if I were to be more like little Bucky out there? To come running to His calming presence with my anxious thoughts and find out His perspective.  If He's not concerned (and is God ever worried that He's not big  enough and wise enough and kind enough to handle the situation?), then I can leave my fears with Him, just as Bucky does with Rosie.

I don't think God minds being compared to Rosie. She does such a brilliant job. The biggest contrast would be between  Bucky and me--one of us carries way too much care and forgets where calmness can be found. But I'm not going to start worrying about that! The next time a thunderstorm threatens, I'll be looking for blue sky and green pastures in the shadow of the One who is sufficient for all things.