Where Else Would I Go?

I came across something in an antique store the other day that brought a smile to my face.  There, tucked away in a corner, was a boxy red, white, and blue American flag- emblazoned suitcase straight out of the 70's.  I had one just like it when I was a little girl.   I loved (seems like a strong word for an inanimate object but it's true) that suitcase .  As a child, our family  never took many trips, so I can't even remember officially using it.  To this day I can still remember where it sat in my room.  I never put it in a closet or under my bed.  It sat out for all to see. 
I do recall using that retro "blast from the past" piece of luggage one time though.  It wasn't packed for a vacation, a summer camp, or a stay at Grandma's or anything of the sort.  This time it was packed because I was running away from home.  Yep, I was ticked, fed up with my 1970's life, and ready to hit the road.   I can still remember throwing some clothes and my Mrs. Beasley doll in my suitcase and taking off walking down our dirt road. I must have looked quite the sight with my Shirley Partridge shag haircut and bellbottom pants stomping off in the direction of the highway. I'm sure I was belly-aching the whole way, complaining about how life wasn't fair and that I'd be better off if I lived somewhere else (you know-the grass is always greener mentality). 
I didn't get very far when it dawned on me that I really had no other place to go.  I had no one that could take care of me quite the way my parents could.  No one that would feed me and to keep me safe.  No one that would watch over me when I was scared.  No one that would help me make acceptable choices.  No one that would steer me in the right direction.  My parents did all of these things and I realized that I'd be lost without them.
As you probably already figured out, I turned around and walked right back home that day.  I knew I couldn't make it on my own and I really didn't, deep down inside, want to try it anyway.
I'd like to say that I've come a long way since those "running away" days, but there are still times when I want to pack my bags and escape.  Times, when I've asked Him for relief from an annoying situation and He doesn't give it to me because He's growing my character.  Times when I've prayed for someone who is sick and He doesn't heal them because His ways and His understanding are higher than mine. Times when I've prayed about the peer pressure my oldest sons are going through and he doesn't answer me immediately because His timing is perfect and mine is not.
Each seemingly unanswered prayer doesn't really make me want to pack my bags and hit the road.  Where would I go?  I've been through life without Him and, let me tell you, it stinks.  I lived a defeated life, an "insecure about who I was" life, and a life with no purpose for way too long, and it got me nowhere.  
Once I met Him, I was forever changed.  I realized that no one can take care of me like He can. No one can feed me (He is the Bread of Life) and keep me safe like He can. No one can watch over me when I'm scared like He can. No one can help me make acceptable choices or steer me in the right direction like He can.  He does all of these things plus millions more and I would be lost without Him. 

Then Jesus turned to the twelve and asked, "Are you gong to leave me, too?"  Simon Peter replied, "Lord, to whom would we go? You alone have the words that give eternal life. We believe them, and we know You are the Holy One of God." John 6:67-69 (NLT)

A "Diving Right In" or "Just Dabbling" Kind of Life?

"An excessive heat warning is being issued for the St. Louis area. Expect a record high of 98 today with searing high humidity and a heat index of 102," I heard the TV weatherman announce one recent morning.  Welcome to good 'ole Missouri summer weather.  It's when I hear weather reports like this that I'm so grateful for our backyard swimming pool.
The boys dig out their swimming trunks from their dressers and I freshly launder their beachtowels sometime in March in preperation for "opening day".  Come late April it's time to peel back the pool cover and see what creatures have taken up residency in the murky water.  Once we've shocked the water and it's a normal aqua blue color once again it's time for someone to take the ceremonial "first dive".  The someone usually turns out to be my youngest son, Joseph.  He'll climb onto the diving board while his big brothers chant "Joe! Joe! Joe!".  Then he'll take a deep breath, run, bounce on the end, and then heroically dive into the extra chilly water.  From that day on until late September there's usually at least one or two people in the pool each day splashing around.
As opposed to my amphibious-like boys, I take my good sweet time getting in the pool.  My pool entering criteria is quite specific. The water usually has to be a very comfortable 86 degrees, the sun has to be out with few clouds in the sky, there can only be a slight or, better yet, no breeze in the air.  As you can tell, my list of conditions has to be near perfect. 
When I do finally get in, it's usually to float on a raft and sunbathe.  My tanning routine goes something like this-thirty minutes on my tummy, flip over,thirty minutes on my back and then I repeat; all the while making sure that I don't get my hair wet in the process. 
My unadventurous and calculable pool habits drive my boys crazy.  "Come on, Mom, dive in!", "Play Marco Polo with us, Mom", "Let's have a diving contest, Mom" are just some of their many aquatic invitations.  "Maybe another day, guys," or "I don't want to get my hair wet, fellas," I may respond.
The boys play and have a blast while Mom lays out was all pretty much the standard swimming pool routine until recently.  Not too long ago one of my kids, I'm not sure which one, said something pretty profound that made me change my stubborn predictable pool ways.  He said, "Mom, how will you know you won't have a blast until you dive right in?  You never know, you might like it." 
To most people that may not sound like a profound statement, but it was to me.  Let me explain.  I'm a very predictable person.  A steady-as-you-go, creature of habit kind of lady that likes to have both her feet on the ground and avoids anything remotely dangerous or adventurous.  Sticking to a routine and not veering from it is how I operate. 
This comment could have been spoken from the lips of my heavenly Father instead of from one of my kids as far as I'm concerned.  I think sometimes God uses innocent words from children to teach us lessons.  He did for me that day.  It was as if He was the One in the water beckoning me to "dive right in" and experience things like never before.  To dive into things in life that aren't always predictable.  Things that I need to trust Him with.  Things that I'll never experience until I try them.  It was as if He was telling me that I can't put Him and His ways in a neat little box.  That I can't even imagine His greatness and His power.  That I can't control Him and manipulate my surroundings to my liking.  That I don't have to wait for perfect conditions to experience Him.  That I could go around the pool of this thing we call "Life", only dabbling  my feet into the water or I could experience Him completely and wholeheartedly taking risks along the way knowing that He has everything and, I mean everything, under control.
I wonder how many of you out there reading this are like me.  There's bound to be a few of you.  What do you say, do you want to take a chance and dive right into the water of Life with me?  There's safety there.  In the words of my son, "You never know you might like it." 
Marco?  Polo....Marco?  Polo....

Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.” John 4:10