Update!

News! We are moving to Idaho! Also, I can’t believe my Daddy and my puppy are finally back with us. Unfortunately, this weekend is finals weekend, so I don’t have very much time to write a blog post, but I hope you enjoy this essay about change that I wrote for school. Please be praying for rest for those who just arrived from Germany because they are both struggling against the strain of jet lag. Also, I believe I am running a fever in addition to some extreme before-finals-stress, so please pray that I am healed quickly (preferably before Tuesday when my school week starts). Lastly, please pray that our move to Idaho goes well! 🙂

The Tides are Key

I enjoy dipping into the deep chasm that is my Lord’s understanding, but in fear of drowning in my incomprehension, I quickly escape. My mind is left with the shimmering gold flecks of His grace and beauty. In one hand, He holds everything in place while His mouth keeps all created things in existence. I dare not try to guess at what my Master’s other hand holds, for His creation surely only skims the surface of His true capabilities. His is undeniably underrated.
In the past year, I have lived in eight different houses, been a member of three churches, owned three dogs, visited ten countries, and attended three schools. Change has lost its shock factor, but it has left me spinning like a restless top, drawing nearer to its seeming doom off the side of the table. What the top does not realize is that under the table, it will find rest. Who started the spinning and the restlessness, and what was His purpose in all the dizziness? There is only One who designated Miss Springtime to melt away the chill of the grumpy Mr. Winter. Without this installation, we would never feel the kiss of a fragrant flower brush our noses as we stroll through the dew-filled fields. The stuffy noses and puffy eyes from Miss Springtime’s pollen make us forget the flowers, but it takes only a moment to remember the blessings of change.

All philosophers have been faced with the question of change. Why does change happen? Where does change come from? I, a fifteen year old hooligan, know the answer to these questions which many of those wisdom seekers have left unanswered. I have studied the tides of the ocean and have found the solution to this conundrum and in the meantime, have ruled out the possibility of karma. My explanation entirely disregards religion and science, because I believe in the tides. Solar, lunar, neap and spring tides, I believe in them all. Predictability is something I appreciate above all other things, and the tides bring it to me as they froth forward on the sand. As long as there’s a moon, the tides will continue their rolling. They are so predictable that I can use a stopwatch to time when they will change. The solar tides occur every twelve hours at noon and midnight, and the lunar tides occur every twelve hours and forty-eight minutes. This predictability is due to one thing which we have named the moon. The moon holds all things in balance. The gravitational pull of the moon pulls the water close to me and then releases the water to reveal one hundred baby tide pools filled with small organisms like starfish, Nudibranchs, and clams. The moon dances together with the tides, swaying sweetly to the rhythm of their predictability.

I said the tides hold the secret behind change, but I have not yet revealed the connection. My greatest hint is this: the moon holds all things together. Does the moon keep all things in motion? No, not all things, but I know who does. He understands the rhythm of change and the reason for hardship. He keeps one handful of His power as a secret from us while He holds us in His other hand. To my friend, the one who keeps existence on his tongue, change is as simple as a beating drum and as predictable as the ring of the school bell. I take comfort in the rising tide, and I sleep to the fuzzy sound of the water sliding over the sand. In the same way, I take comfort in the One who controls my life, because His is like the moon, using His gravitational pull to reveal the Nudibranchs.

To humanity, change is as unpredictable as the path of a tornado which crashes through farmhouses but avoids the outhouse. Change is as unpredictable as a third grader’s thought process which somehow links the deeds of Nero to the building of a house on Minecraft. Truly we know not the ways of change, but I know the secret: the tides are the key.

Thank you for reading!
Clara Huff