In safe hands

When you were growing up, did you ever tell others what you thought you might become later in life? Some of us seem to know from early on, don’t we? I suspect my older sister knew soon after starting school herself that she wanted to be a teacher. I still have a memory of being her ‘pretend class’ as I sat obediently on our back steps while she stood in front of me and ‘taught’!

Recently, our ten-year-old granddaughter looked up at me with her big, brown eyes and announced, ‘Nanna, I want to be like you when I get older!’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked her, thinking she might be referring to something I do or say as we spend time together.

‘I’m going to be an author like you,’ she said firmly, ‘because I write really loooooong stories!’’

I swallowed hard, thinking how much more it takes to produce a book than the ability to write long stories, but decided not to discourage her in any way. ‘That’s wonderful!’ I told her.

‘’Yes, I’m going to be an author and an illustrator!’ she added then, obviously very satisfied with her decision.

Who was I to dampen her heart’s desire at that point? I know Maxine has a wonderful imagination and an amazing ability to think up interesting scenarios. And she is definitely a much more talented artist than I will ever be. Maybe she will become a famous author and illustrator – but my heart went out to her as I envisaged the many discouragements she would most likely face along the way in tackling such literary endeavours. So, in that moment, I prayed she would know God’s presence beside her and in her, whatever twists and turns her life journey might take.

None of us knows exactly what lies ahead of us in life, do we? If we did, we might want to skip some of the more difficult parts altogether or at least reach the better parts sooner. I do not remember it but, apparently, I stated in our school magazine in my late teens that I wanted to become a writer. That is indeed what happened – but not until my middle fifties. Instead, I believe God guided me through various other occupations and many wonderful but also challenging experiences in my life that have hopefully served to add much more depth to my writing. But in the process, I also discovered that, however hard things are, God can always be trusted to watch over us and hold us close.

King David certainly went through many extreme ups and downs in his life. In Psalm 31, he does not leave us in any doubt as to how distressed he is at that point. He is in anguish, grief-stricken and weak, to the extent that he feels ‘like broken pottery’(12). As well, his friends and neighbours flee from him in contempt and his very life is in danger. Yet, in the midst of it all, he writes:

But I trust in you, Lord;
    I say, ‘You are my God.’
My times are in your hands. Psalm 31:14–15a

Today, those hands are there for us too, whatever stage of life we are at – and they are indeed the safest hands imaginable because they belong to our loving, powerful Lord.

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The right time

This spring, I decided to plant a tomato seedling in a pot on our balcony. I hoped it would grow into a nice, rounded little bush and, in time, bear at least a few little cherry tomatoes. But, to my surprise, it has continued to shoot up, sprouting more and more leaves and yellow flowers, daily growing ever higher! Yet it was not its size that captured my attention this week, but rather the pungent scent of its leaves as I touched them gently. Immediately, I was wafted back many, many years to those lush tomato bushes my father took delight in growing in our backyard in Brisbane, where I grew up.

As a little girl, I often liked to join my father while he gardened. One day, I decided I would help him, so I gathered up my skirt to form a soft kind of pouch and made my way along our rows of tomato bushes, picking whatever fruit I saw there.

Once finished, I joyfully showed my stash to my father. But alas—he took one look, then chased me up our steep backyard, roaring with rage, as those tomatoes scattered everywhere! You see, they were all still green—my father had been patiently waiting until just the right time to harvest them. But I did not know that—and I had picked them far too early to be of use to anyone.

Perhaps one could say I was scarred for life, since I still remember this event so vividly! Yet, as someone who has also enjoyed gardening, I can well understand how devastated my father must have felt at losing his precious tomato crop—or a good portion of it at least. Besides, this whole childhood experience taught me a good lesson which, even now as a writer, I need to put into practice. Stories ripen too, like those tomatoes. A whole novel needs time to grow and develop, perhaps even to change shape from what I as the author originally envisaged. It needs gentle nurturing—and often much pruning—in order to be palatable to any future readers. So the whole process cannot be rushed, if my precious story is ever truly going to provide enjoyment and nourishment and blessing to others as God intended.

Recently, I heard two excellent sermons both based on Ecclesiastes 3, which begins:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot … (3:1-2)

What a good reminder to hear—twice over—just when I was feeling frustrated that my current novel would not be ready in time to pitch it to a potential publisher at an upcoming writers’ conference! As a result, I decided to relax about it all and to keep on faithfully writing and fine-tuning my story, trusting God for the eventual outcome and for the Spirit’s enabling throughout.

I remembered those green tomatoes. I remembered there is a time for everything. I remembered my times are in God’s hands and that those hands are so trustworthy—and I pray you will too.

But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.” My times are in your hands …’ Psalm 31:14-15

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