Hymning and Hawing

Tuesday, July 31 4:45
I receive a call from Leon. "Hi, I’m going to be late. A kid in a pick-up just pulled out right in front of me on Hwy 13. I braked, but I couldn’t keep from hitting him. I think I’m OK, but the Nissan is probably totaled."

Wed, Aug 1 6:58 p.m.

We receive a call from my mother about the 35W bridge. Leon flips on the TV. We stare, dumbfounded at the images of twisted girders, broken concrete slabs, vehicles scattered at odd angels, fire and smoke.
"Where is that?" I ask again, despite the fact that the information is printed right on the screen.
"It’s the 35W bridge!" Leon exclaims.
My brain tries to catch up with reality. This is our bridge—the one we drive on regularly—the one Leon just drove on at 2:00 p.m. today—coming home from work early for a doctors appointment due the accident the day before. It’s our bridge—and it’s gone—into the river!

Wednesday, August 22
I’m watching another newscast filled with images of flood waters and people sweeping mud out of their homes.
"Everything we’ve worked for, for the past six years, we just threw in the dumpster," says a woman with an edge of frustration and despair in her voice as she surveys the soggy mess of the home she and her husband just bought.

* * *

In the past few weeks I’ve had old hymns running through my mind—those ones I heard as a child, lying under a pew in the Crosby, A/G Tabernacle. Some of those old hymns seemed rather abstract to my childish mind, but the older folks always sang them with such conviction.
"In times like these, you need a Savior. In times like these, you need an anchor. Be very sure, be very sure, your anchor holds and grips the solid rock!"
"On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand!"
It’s funny how hymns are becoming very poignant to me these days. Maybe I’m finally grown up.

* * *

Our house has been on the market for 4 months. I’m growing very weary of the repetitious cleanings. We were hoping to be moving to Indiana by now. We pull in the driveway, back from a family reunion in Green Bay and see a "for sale" sign by the house across the street that was foreclosed upon several months ago. Checking the list price we see it’s priced $15,000 below ours. Our price is already well below the assessed value. Another hymn plays through my mind.
"Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are fully blessed, finding as He promised, perfect peace and rest."

* * *

Natalia is starting to talk in phrases. Her favorites are, "Why Mom?" "Why Dad?" and when a train or loud truck goes by, she cries, "I’m scared!"
I guess Talia is feeling the vulnerability of being a little person in a big, scary world. Aren’t we all? When Talia is afraid, I gather her up in my arms and say, "It’s OK, mommy is here."
What I’m really thinking is, "I’m scared too, but…. In times like these we have an anchor… and it grips the solid Rock."