#4 - Walking On Water

Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him.  —Matthew 14:29b-31a (NIV)

When you're unemployed, selling your house, and are in your sixties, it’s easy to panic. I sometimes feel like Peter, winds of uncertainty blowing me forward in faith, only to panic when I discover myself walking on water. Down I go in a sea of fear.

I raised three children on my own primarily as a writer, and this is the problem. I show no consistency in the real world, my resume--legal secretary, bank teller, graphic designer, university composition instructor, receptionist, art director, editor—is way too old and way too varied. Applications inevitably require a high school graduation date and my 1970 answer in doesn’t help in 2014. I'm always looking for work, always looking for a place to live, always scrambling for money to pay the bills.

“I don’t know how you do it,” my sister said this morning. I’m currently staying at her house while we take turns looking after our mother who suffers dementia. For a week now, while our brother (Mum’s primary caretaker) is taking a much-needed break, we’ve been alternating overnight's at Mum’s, juggling the days and, of course, inevitably losing track of our “stuff.”

“I forgot my hair dryer.”

“I need to go home and get my make up."

“I can’t find my phone.”

“Did you see if I brought over my jacket?”

“I don’t know how you do this,” Tresa repeated today over coffee, very aware of my world, that I’m constantly on the move, trading one place for another, with no permanent place to stay, consequently misplacing things and always backtracking.

Truth to tell, I don’t either, and it’s why I can panic.

What about Peter? He walked on water. He did the impossible. But then he saw the waves and went under. “Save me!” he cried.

The sea of my own uncertainty is just as wild, the wind just as strong, the waves just as high. At times I go under when a tsunami overwhelms.

Tresa says, “I don’t know how you do it.”

I don't either. But I can cry, “Jesus, save me.”

           

Jesus, in my ongoing storm of uncertainty, thank you reaching out and catching me. Over and over, as long as the storm lasts.