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Guest Writer: Dn. Jessica Krzewina
It seems to me that in the blink of an eye, we are almost through September. My dental hygienist asked me earlier this week if I had a good summer, and I PAUSED. I paused, because my brain short circuited as to whether or not summer was actually over. My friends, I think it might be.
As someone who much prefers cozy fires, warm blankets, and the comfort of living room furniture, I am SO READY for summer to be over. BUT I also know that with the ending of summer comes sometimes fuller schedules, more to juggle, more to handle, and a marathon until....whenever the marathon ends.
But as I think through all the things on my never-ending to-do list, the feelings that continue to flutter through my heart are thankfulness and joy. As I was reflecting on my summer of quiet days filled with warmth and sunshine, to-do lists that seemed a little shorter, and working with Bp. Shay to gear up for the fall, the phrase "I got this" ran through my head. Which led me to a memory...
Many eons ago, when I was still in the parish working with children, youth, and families, I would take 4th-6th graders camping, in the woods, for a weekend. It was....a chaotic and holy mess most years. I love the indoors (see above) but the kids LOVED it. We had one rule (well many rules, but this one was always at the top) everyone helps. It never mattered what we were doing or where we were going, everyone helped.
So, the kids, adult leaders, and myself were headed down to the beach. Because we would spend the majority of the day at the beach, we carted all of our supplies with us. We would park as close as we could, but we still had a ways to walk, down a hill, and across the field. EVERYONE HELPS, so all the kids had to take something with them in order to help unload the vans: food, sunscreen, beach toys, more food...
One of our adult leaders gave one of our smaller girls the BIGGEST watermelon. So picture this, in one hand she held her towel, sunscreen, and bug spray. In the other arm she precariously had the watermelon balanced. The adult leaders and I watched her walk away. We thought better of this and called to her. She turned, looking confused. We said we would give her something else to carry, she responded, quite confidently, "I got this." I told the adult leader, let her go, she's got this.
Well...you can imagine where this story goes...
All of a sudden I look over and the watermelon is on the ground, still in one piece, but with everything she is carrying, she can't quite pick it up. Here is where I made a mistake. I told her to gently roll the watermelon down the hill to the sand, all should be just fine.
The adult leaders and I finish unloading the vans and we start to make our way to the beach. As we walk down the hill, all of a sudden I see innards of watermelon. No rind, just pieces of fruit. I later find out that the watermelon started rolling too fast, hit a bump, and split wide open. The watermelon made it to the beach, but it was a little worse for the wear.
Whenever I utter the phrase, "I got this," to myself or aloud to someone else, I always remember the confidence of my youth: "I got this." [And remember, we all fake it 'til we make it sometimes.]
There are times when I go to God and say, "God, I got this." I delude myself into thinking that I am in control, that I have everything under control. And then, the "watermelon" drops, but by golly, "I've still got this." Then the "watermelon" hits a bump and I start to realize that I probably don't have "this" anymore, but my stubborn streak hits and I refuse to give up. So broken and battered, the "watermelon" and I finally make it to the beach.
I got this...maybe.
Whereas, I think what really is going on, is that God is asking us to hold on, while He lovingly carries us down the hill, because unlike us, he really and truly "does have this." Thank goodness that God's got this, and I don't have to have anything.
Siblings in Christ, God has this (whatever "this" may be) under control. I rest securely in that knowledge, knowing that God's in control.
Blessings abound,
Dn. Jess
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