Fires

I smell like smoke tonight. No, it's not what you might think. It's just grass fire season here on the prairie. Our little town looks like it's been covered by one of those early morning mists...until you're out in it. It feels like God forgot to lift the flue on the sky and all the smoke is pouring back into our little home.

Grass fires are so eerie at night. You can only see the line of flame and the choking smoke pouring around all the houses and cars. You lose your sense of perspective and you lay in bed and wonder how close it might be to the houses. Are the volunteer firemen still out battling, or is the smoke that's creeping through our windows and doors all that's left of the fire?

In fact, it feels almost exactly like that debilitating maternal fear I sometimes have when I'm lying awake at night and imagining my little ones out in that big, frightening, smoke-filled world. I can see it all around them; friends who will make bad decisions, adults who will try to turn them away, simple anger, pride and jealousy. I know the fires are out there, but I'm not exactly sure how to lead them, because the future is so dark.

I can only trust that God, who not only smells the smoke but sees the flames, knows how to guide my little ones over the fields. I can tell them about the fire, and I can show them examples of lives choked out by the smoke around them, but only their Savior can help them walk out into that dark future with their eyes open and their hands in His.

So why can't I sleep. Hasn't he helped me through some fires of my own? Yes. He has. I just have to remember. And sleep. And stop worrying.