Hemmed In, Wisconsin to Texas

By Robin J. Steinweg –

I blew through the days like a tumbleweed in a windstorm. Rehearsals and a choir concert for my second-born son were added to my full workweek. After the concert, I packed for my first-ever flight. My husband drove me in the wee hours of the morning to an airport five hours from home, the only flight that would get me to our firstborn son’s graduation.

Before my husband had driven halfway home, I landed a thousand miles away in Dallas, deaf due to air pressure. My son’s friends picked me up and got me to the auditorium fifteen minutes late. David was on stage with the praise band. I hadn’t seen him since Christmas, and I wept for joy. Then time suspended as I entered into worship.

It resumed in the congestion afterward, when David introduced me to more friends at the reception. I had my first meal since the quick PB&J I’d swallowed the day before.

David’s car took us homeward into an electric storm that covered the south of Oklahoma.

Around midnight we found a motel and slept a few hours.

Next afternoon we got as far as Liberty, Missouri, when BAM! The left front tire exploded. David rassled the car to the two-foot shoulder. We unloaded the trunk, picking hoards of local spiders off as we searched for jack and spare. I watched cars race past, barely missing us, and it began to dawn on me through the fog of shock that this was dangerous. As I shrank from speeding traffic, a pickup was forced into the ditch to our right. I called 911. Three squad cars responded, the officers standing in harm’s way to protect us as we waited for a tow. By evening we’d heard enough stories about that corner to be grateful we were still alive.

Home looked good the next afternoon.

Interesting contrasts in two short days. From ground level to 37,000 feet. From hearing to not hearing. From 50 degrees to 94 degrees. From North to South. From harried rushing to timeless worship. From steady, driven activity to sitting in a cramped car for two days. From the safety of an enclosed vehicle to the vulnerability of standing a couple of feet from hurtling metal.

Yet an unseen Hand hemmed us in. We were—and are—enveloped in His love and care.

PRAYER: Lord, whether my life is defined by unending change or unending sameness, You are present. Whether the pace is frenetic or flat, You are near. From my conception You have watched over me. Even to my gray hairs and old age, You’ll carry me. Bless You.

“You hem me in—behind and before; You have laid Your hand upon me … Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast” (Psalm 139:5, 7-10 NIV).