A Life in His Hands

It's funny, isn't it?  How quickly things can change.  The little boy you loved and held is half grown, and away to places you still can't understand.  Where did that tender heart go?  Or is it only hiding?  And that wonderful old friend you met again?  Where are their hearts at now?  What has changed, and what never will?

I wish I could just take their faces in my hands, look closely, and see it all, and perhaps even understand.  I wish that by looking in their eyes, I could somehow bridge all the lost time between us, and that things could be sweet and young between us again, full of possibility.

The seasons of our life, how quickly they seem to change.  I can never get used to the change, for though I'm hoping for the next season, as I believe I'm tired of the one that has been, I realize only too late that I'm not ready to let go and begin again.  I keep forgetting that, though life springs anew each year, nothing is ever the same again.  Those times that have gone will still be gone, only the memory is further away now and the ache a little less.

I dearly - perhaps too dearly - love so many people, and for things to change is heartrending.  I break again and again, like the safety glass of the window in the college; a web of loving glass that has cracked, but refuses to be sharp lest someone get hurt.  It is the greatest mercy that I have God, for to whom else could I cling?  Who else would never change?  If there is nothing else good coming of the turmoil of my heart, it is enough that I draw closer and closer to God my strength.  I am certain that he is the only one who could hold my heart without having all the pieces fall apart.

I still long for those days past, where innocence was a way of life, not a question.  I am a traitor to myself, as I have changed as well.  I am not sure who this person is yet; I do not know where I am going.  These dreams, desires, and deep thoughts are only half-formed; still clay in the hands of the Potter.

My only consolation is that I can trust His Hands.

~Fumble