A Tubing Incident

Seven of us grew up on the same street.
Actually one lived around the corner, but basically the same street.
We all went to elementary school and high school together.
There are pictures of us in our graduation caps and gowns on a front lawn.

In the days of neighborhoods with sidewalks and close-together houses, this was common.
There was always someone to play with or someone’s house to visit.
Most of us lost track after high school graduation when college or work took us away.
Social media has helped us reconnect.

One dear friend lives quite close to me so a breakfast was arranged last spring.
Three hours after we sat down, we left the restaurant, all caught up with our lives.
Now we can connect through email and texts as the years have melted away.
We just had another breakfast together, almost as long as the first.

We laughed and shared stories.
One of her stories stayed with me.
She told the story of tubing on a river with her son.
I gave her an incredulous gaze since she is about as outdoor-sy as I am.

It was decided that a few mothers would take their children tubing on the river.
It seemed like a wonderful idea at the time and she went along.
Having some doubts, her worries were eased when she saw the tubes.
A small black one and a large “princess” one, as she called it, with a headrest on the back.

The princess one was for me, she said and I laughed, imagining the sight.
I tried unsuccessfully to place myself in one of those tubes.
I am the one who would be sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree, waving.
Just when I got a mental picture, she began.

We started off but the water was a bit rough that day.
As I sat in the tube, the current took me away.
It took me away from the son; away from the group.
I was going downstream asking God to help me; actually screaming for God to help me!

I was trying so hard not to laugh because I could see her replaying the scene in her mind.

I looked back and saw my son.
“You OK, Mom?” he yelled from the safety of the group.
“I’m fine,” I called back not even convincing myself of my safety.
I tried to paddle, but I was like a Tyrannosaurus Rex with my little arms in the big tube.

Somehow I got myself close to the riverbank.
I decided that I could try to reach up and grab some overhanging vines.
I tried but failed a few times.
Finally, I was successful in grabbing a thick branch in my hand.

Relief soon turned to disgust.
The branch suddenly broke and I began to move downstream again.
Inside the branch were all sorts of bugs, live bugs that decided to land on me.
They were crawling up my arm; they were in my hair, they were in my mouth.

By this time, I was laughing.
I couldn’t help it.
This story was ripe for the telling.
One of those stories that just keeps getting better with time.

I looked around and my son was approaching me.
I didn’t care about the bugs.
I just wanted to be near him and tube down the river together.
I looked up and then I saw it.

A rope.
There was a rope right next to the branch that had broken.
I could have held onto the rope!
The rope was there all the time!

Now both of us were laughing.
People around us were beginning to look at the two women in the corner.

We have all been there.
Maybe not tubing on a river, but in a trial or a dangerous situation.
We sit nice and cozy thinking that we are fine.
We have orchestrated the conditions perfectly, we have planned, we did our calculations.

Except in this fallen world, there are always dead branches with bugs.
There are always strong currents that pull us in directions we just don’t want to go.
There is always fear, dread, and disgust as we look back and see how far off course we are.
The current is too strong to maneuver on our own.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters rage and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. (Psalm 46:1-3)

There is a Rope.
Even if you are holding on by your pinky finger.
Even if you do not have an ounce of strength left.
There is a Rope for you to hold onto.

The Rope may be hidden behind the things of this world that are getting in the way.
The vines and overgrowth may be seemingly entangle the Rope.
But the Rope is there.
It is always there.

When you look up from your panic, your distress and disgust you will see it.
When you look up, really look up at the other end of the Rope you will see Him.
He has been there all along.
He is holding the other end of the Rope that will save you.

Grab hold.
The current will always pull you downstream.
Your arms are not strong enough to paddle and steer all alone.
Grab hold of the One who is holding the Rope.

Then, with Him, you can enjoy the ride.

2 responses to “A Tubing Incident”

1. Why don’t we look for the Rope in the first place? Many times it’s the thing we look for after we’ve tried everything else. Hopefully, as we age we learn where to look first. Thank you Gina for reminding us!

   Reply

   • Sue,
     Maybe we don’t see the Rope because we fail to look UP!
     Hopefully, we will remember to look UP as we look to Him first in the New Year.
     Gina

     Reply