By Charles Towne
Disclaimer: I, contrary to popular belief, am not crazy. Really, I am not!
I don’t really enjoy getting bit, chewed on, stung, clawed, ripped, torn, folded and otherwise mutilated. But then... why do I seem to always go back for more? Well, perhaps I am a little crazy. Just a little mind you... just a little.
I have been stung, stabbed, spit on, mangled, mauled, clawed and chewed-on by a very interesting, if somewhat motley, collection of critters. I have had an African spotted leopard blown off the top of me with a 10 gauge shotgun (sadly my fault.) I've been chased by an angry elephant, kicked by a camel, threatened, and bluff-charged, by bears. (How do you know when a bear’s charge is a bluff? When you survive with little or no damage!) I have been snake-bit, hornet- and wasp-stung, and nailed by scorpions. I have been frost bit, sun burned and sun blinded! (And the sun blind thing was likely the most painful thing I have experienced.) From the time I was about knee-high to a short toad - or shoulder-high to a tall snake - I have not been able to resist the urge to stick my grubby little paws into dark holes to see what was hiding therein, and I still am in possession of all my fingers.
Now, I shared all that juicy stuff with you to help you realize that my life as a curious human, people-person, is really no different then yours; not much anyhow.
Writing, for me, is not much different than what I have just described. You stick your hand in, and when you feel something squirming around, you grab hold of whatever it is, pull it out, cuddle it, love on it some, and then apply a lot of stitches and band-aids - that is the writing process. At least, this is what it is like for me! But oh how I love to do it - every, single, crazy bit!
What is that 'something' you love to do, that no amount of 'crazy' obstacles will keep you from it?
Dear Papa God, you are such a wonderful friend, and I love you beyond anything that is reasonable. When I think of your great love, I can't help but think of myself trapped in the path of a tsunami, a tidal wave if you will. I have no place to go, and I realize that staying where I am is going to end up with my death by drowning.
Not far away is a huge oak tree, its branches nearly reaching the ground, a great tree for climbing.
I run to the tree and climb up, up, to the uppermost branches, and using my belt and my clothing as rope, I tie myself to the tree, and wait! The tidal wave hits, a powerful wall of water, twenty feet - no - thirty feet tall rushes toward me. I hang on for my life! Yes, I hang on with all of my strength! With a relentless roar, the tidal wave hits. And I cling there still.
The torrent rages over me, and then it stops, and reverses itself, as if it is determined to sweep me away and carry me out to sea!
It seems that the relentless, torrential onslaught of choking, smothering water will never diminish, but it does, and soon my tree, my lifesaving tree and I, are standing high above the flood waters. I am safe, praise God, I am safe.
Jesus, my Lord, is like that strong tree! No matter what terrors the evil one throws at God’s children, Jesus stands firm. We are tied to Him by bonds of love! He will never fail us or let us go, praise God, he will never let us go!
Thank you Papa God, thank you O Holy God, thank you for saving me, even from myself. In Jesus’ wonderful and Holy name I ask it, Amen