AMY LARSON
Staff Writer
As children, we watched cartoons that were pretty crazy. Wild roadrunners were chased by the sly coyote, the stinky little skunk always looked for love, and Elmer Fudd hunted those pesky “wabbits” in the weirdest of places. Sometimes, when the characters were running really hard and really fast down a snow-covered mountain, they tripped. But, they just continued to roll down the hill and gather more and more momentum and more and more snow until they were just a giant ball of speed, snow and ice.
The last couple of weeks have made me feel like that orb of wintry mess, speeding down a mountain and unable to stop. Everyone agrees this is a busy time of year, but this time of year has been exceptionally busy for me. I can’t remember a previous time in my life where my time has been so occupied. When I stumble upon a stretch of five or ten unscheduled minutes, simply as a knee-jerk reaction I ask myself what I am doing.
Between hours and hours of singing and dancing for Songfest, working, every teacher collectively conspiring to make each possible project due at exactly the same time, and salvaging what is left of a social life, my existence has become ruled by a little red book I clutch at all times: my planner. Though I would much rather be busy than bored, I am exhausted. And what’s more, just when it seems to be slowing down, new things pick up, and demand more time and effort.
I do not anticipate this slowing down as I continue to roll down that mountain the next 12 months until I graduate from Pepperdine, but it does not intimidate much anymore. I had a change of heart today.
I was sitting in one of my classes, worrying about how I should have skipped that class to work on a project for another class, and thinking about how directly after that class I had a meeting and then another and then another, and generally feeling sorry for myself, when God reached down and tapped me on the shoulder (Frankly, I probably could have used a smack in the face, but God is a gentleman).
I was reminded of a verse I know by heart but have not thought of in some time: “Cast the whole of your care – all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all – on him, for he cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.”
I have quoted that passage to so many people; it is one of my very favorites and, I think, shows the true nature of God. Yet, for some reason, I had not applied it to myself at all.
Things are still busy, and I still refer to my little red planner. But somehow things seem to be going more smoothly. God’s peace — a peace that surpasses all understanding (John 14:27) — is giving me the strength to recognize what’s important, try to take out what isn’t, and not run myself ragged in the process.
God’s little reminder to me was not at all condemning, but more of a gentle reminder that he not only sees the light at the end of the tunnel, but is there to carry me through the darkness.
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