Who Brings Forth the Wind

I would like to state, right at the very outset of this post, that anyone who knows Cynthia and myself would happily confirm us to be the physical fulfillment of John 3:8 which says: "The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit." This is a very polite and Biblical way of saying that we're sometimes unpredictable, often scattered, occasionally adorable, and entertaining without fail. In fact, aside from our mutual and constant love for the Lord, it might be fair to assume that our guaranteed qualities of entertainment and flair for drama are the most consistent things about us. We are not flighty, (on the contrary, we are quite hard headed and steadfast) but we do flit about. A lot. Twirling. And singing.

I, being a noticer, realized recently that there are some things I discuss an awful lot and the very things I spend the most time discussing, I pray about the least. Upon that realization, an idea began to form. Instead of worrying, I would sit down and write a detailed account of everything that gave me anxiety in these often discussed but rarely prayed about areas and I would be as specific as possible. (Philippians 4:6) Then I would tie the paper to a balloon, and literally cast all my cares upon the Lord. (1 Peter 5:7) I knew right away that I wanted to share this experience with Cynthia. I had every detail of this down: We would share a quiet morning writing these missives, purchase balloons, take some cute pictures for social media, and then relinquish control both seriously and symbolically as we cast our cares to the mercy of the winds. Steps one and two worked beautifully.  Here's how step three (take some cute pictures for social media) worked out: 

Yes. The combined grace and poise depicted IS absolutely breathtaking. Thank you for noticing. What's that? We handle balloons with an incredible amount of skill? Stop it. You're making me blush. Still, again, thank you for noticing. 

With one final meaningful exchanged glance I handed Cynthia my bunch of balloons (What's that? You thought one, maybe two balloons tops would have been sufficient? Thank you for that suggestion but it is obviously much easier to flit about with a dozen...) and she launched them into the great unknown, releasing care and control into the atmosphere. 

Three things happened simultaneously: 

1.) Our balloons blew to the left and lodged themselves squarely into the top branches of a very tall tree. 

2.) It began to rain. 

3.) I realized that I, the person who picks up trash in random parking lots with great concern and outrage, had just aided and abetted in the launching of twelve helium filled aluminum bird-killers right out into our precious environment and I was too short, too late, to do anything about it. 

Please note that the "rise" filter has been carefully selected to communicate bitter irony. 

Please note that the "rise" filter has been carefully selected to communicate bitter irony. 

I don't know when I've laughed that hard but I can state for sure and for certain that it's been a good long while. Nobody seems to know really, what Cynthia and I will do next, but He knows. He knows before we do it, and whatever we do He is there with us, so I know He was there that day. Not just because He is omnipresent, but because there, in the wind and laughter dancing together gale on gale, I could feel Him extra. There's a verse in Psalms that also titles one of the best Lori Wick books you could probably read that says: 

"He causes the vapors to ascend from the ends of the earth; Who makes lightnings for the rain, Who brings forth the wind from His treasuries." - Psalms 135:7 

It may not be the way you would have done it, it may have been over the top and extra, but the God who brings forth the wind and sees sparrows fall from nests saw the condition of the hearts relinquishing control that day, and I don't think it coincidental at all that within three seconds of doing so all of our worries ended up tangled in a tree where we could do nothing to retrieve them. We were forced to go back inside and carry on with our lives. We literally could not handle the anxiety anymore, it was physically out of our hands and somehow, sometime between the pealing laughter and the bitter irony and going to bed that night, the worry was nowhere to be found. Out of the branches, yes, but also out of our hands, heads, and hearts. 

However you come to Him, whoever you are, He will be there. He doesn't promise picture perfect, only to be in the picture. Ever and always, right there in the picture.