Hazards

Today’s guest
devotion is by Cynthia Ruchti, from: His Grace is Sufficient…Decaf is Not © 2011 Summerside Press
Hazards

“Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
you preserve my life.”
Psalm
138:7           
With the agility
of a woman half my age—okay, a third.
Let’s give that woman a true advantage
—I nimbly stepped over the trip wire,
then pivoted to avoid the camouflaged danger designed to maim. I pulled out my
Lamaze breathing to slow my heart rate. Stay
calm. Stay…calm.
Balancing on one
foot, I leaned forward, my arms a tightrope walker’s pole. Adjusting here. Steady.
Safely over another obstacle. But there was no relaxing yet. Metal and ball
bearings—a dangerous combination—lay between me and an oasis of relative
safety.
What was that?
Quicksand? Great. Resist the urge to
struggle. Slow movements.
Muscles taut, I grabbed the arm of the couch with
one hand and the end table with the other. Yes! Free from the gauntlet of
dangers, I scraped PlayDoh off the bottom of my Nikes and headed for the
kitchen to make lunch for the grandkids.
I’d successfully
dodged Matchbox cars, marbles, Legos, and Mr. Potato Head parts. But the kitchen
wasn’t the safe haven for which I’d hoped. And hopped. One grandson knelt on
all fours on the floor, eating Cheerios from a bowl he pretended was a dog
dish.
Another grandson
found the ice cream pail of birdseed. The gallon size. He’s grown so clever,
that boy. I didn’t know he’d learned how to pop the lid off an ice cream pail,
or that he was so skilled at pouring.
In some
cultures, the pattern of birdseed piles on the hardwood floor would count as
art. But birdseed is slippery piled up like that. One more obstacle to
navigate. Distracted from the danger, I briefly wondered if the blue jays and
goldfinches at the birdfeeder would mind if their dinner had been swept off the
floor.
The sound of the
river swelled to a roar. What a minute.
There’s no river in the bathroom.
My mistake. 
There is now.
Some days,
life’s obstacles are no more threatening than hidden Legos and PlayDoh
landmines. Other times, the ring of the telephone is the emotional equivalent
of a tornado warning or tsunami alert. The
tests don’t look good. We’ll have to schedule a biopsy. This is the last
resort. I’m sorry we couldn’t do more. It’s time to gather the family. Time for
some tough decisions. All we can do now is try to keep her comfortable.
Those calls have
come, with varying outcomes, too many times in the last few years. Always, they
were accompanied by a miracle. We either skirted the danger or were carried
through it. What a rush it is to feel the grip of Grace around us as God dodges
threats we can’t even see. We may be dizzied by His maneuvers, but we’re
held.  
Today’s Prayer: Lord
God, I can’t imagine what’s hiding in the carpet of this day, this week, this
year. All I know is that You know, and that’s enough. Together, we’ve crossed
some frightening territory, haven’t we? You’ve proved your faithfulness in
every episode. I was healed or held. Or both. Thank You, Lord. Make me as agile
as You are, light on my feet and light in my heart while we run this gauntlet
called life. 
Cynthia Ruchti writes and produces the drama/devotional
radio broadcast, The Heartbeat of the
Home
. She is editor of the ministry’s Backyard
Friends
magazine, the author of a novel and novella recognized with
nominations for Reviewers’ Choice, Retailers’ Choice, and Readers’ Choice
awards, and speaks for women’s groups and writers’ events. Visit her Website at
www.CynthiaRuchti.com