The whole family drove out to Fredericksburg for the day. We stopped and picnicked in Johnson City. The kids found swings that are older than their parents. They were the kind our modern playground designers consider unsafe. Long chains hung from supports two stories high and seemed to swing you into outer space.
Children flew through the air. Baby Lady’s hair streamed behind her. Smiles and laughter rang out of boys’ mouths as they begged to be pushed higher and higher.
I marveled at how our quest for safety has made fun less thrilling, and my children lamented that swings aren’t made like this anymore.
I remembered the joy of swinging into thin air as a child. I laughed and told them how sick it makes me now.
Have I forgotten how to enjoy the thrill of adventure? Do I not have the stomach for flinging myself through empty space any more? Is this queasiness the consequence of growing up and learning the comfort of safety?
After lunch we packed up and headed for Enchanted Rock. We climbed and hiked and carried children up to the top of the enormous dome. Once at the top, the view was magnificent. Texas hill country is beautiful. The view was not my favorite part, though.
On top of that rock I could feel the wind. I love the wind.
I always seem to feel God’s presence strongest in the wind. Invisible air spiraling around me, whooshing against my face, never stopping with its force and constant presence.
God is like that. His invisible presence never ceases to swirl through and press on our lives.
There in the deep place of my heart I felt that familiar joy from the swings of my childhood. It is God now who flings me out into open air. He swings me through life, never letting go, always pushing me higher into Himself.
I have not lost my love for His adventures. My stomach has not grown too sensitive for His booming voice that beckons to me into the swirling wind of life. As a child, I felt so safe on that swing made of metal and rubber. Now I am seated securely in my submission to His lordship.
The rusty swings at our picnic spot will not last forever. I am sure one day they will be replaced with safer equipment that is not nearly as exciting to my children. I am glad, though, that they got to experience the thrill of flying through what they could not see. I hope they soon learn the value of what they cannot see or touch, and the thrill of the God’s swirling presence.
That knowledge will never rust or be replaced. It is eternal.
