Dropping The Ball
My life hasn’t been that different than the jugglers really. I have taken one ball at a time and began to orchestrate a delicate dance of throwing and catching life’s balls. The dance soon included two balls…maybe a marriage…a baby…a job. Soon the balls began to mount as growing financial concerns were at play, and now another baby was on the way, and hurtful and painful words were swirling around me. I continued with athletic accuracy to catch each ball that was tossed to me and juggle. Divorce, being single, dating, a very sick child, being an empty nester, feeling unworthy, marriage, college money, jobs, groceries, laundry, feelings of inadequacy, wanting so much to trust God but being afraid, aging parents, my kids friends, food, working out, exhaustion, always knowing the right thing to do, balls thrown at me left and right…catching them…throwing them in the air… And then crisis happens, and I hear the words, “Mom, I need you.”
In a single moment of crisis and clarity, simple words made me stop. Truly stop for the first time in decades. And I stood there in my own space and watched balls rain down from the sky and hit the ground with a crash. Each one fell quicker and quicker and I began to panic, and in a last moment of trying to save the life as I knew It, I began to scramble and reach for the balls as they fell, and I didn’t catch one.
I stood surrounded by balls, some still bouncing, some rolling far away, but a sea of balls and I knew. This must stop.
After agonizing days of silence, I have begun to pick up the pieces of my mess, so I reach down, pick up a ball, and I’m struck and silenced by what I see. Each ball has a name on it, and some of these aren’t my balls to juggle. I find myself scurrying around, digging and sorting through balls, finding names of people I know and love, of past hurts, of regrets, and more than anything else, I’m just finding the name of Jesus. As I run around terrified because all the balls of dropped, I just keep seeing the name of Jesus. Some of the balls are just not mine to juggle.
As I slowly begin to pick up a few random balls labeled “Michelle”, and so many of the ones I’ve left begin to roll and bounce away, I hear a voice. That sweet voice of peace that passes all understanding tell me to pass Him the ball. None of these are mine to juggle alone. So today as we slowly reset, I’m continuing to pass the ball, and juggle, and pass the ball and juggle, and I know that I am not alone.