My daughter brought me a Jenga game last week. It sounds like a challenging game. Stack all the blocks into a tower, then take turns making the tower totally unstable. You know, one person at a time removes a block, trying to keep the integrity of the tower. But sooner or later, the tower will fall and the person who caused it to fall will be declared the loser. This game might be fun for the young with steady hands, but in my shaky hands, the tower will fall, sooner, rather than later.
Right now I feel as if my life is a Jenga tower. One block after another is being pulled out, leaving a very shaky Jenga tower.
The Covid virus hit first, robbing me of face-to-face encounters with even the people I love the most, including those I saw only at church. My son and his wife and my two granddaughters moved to Pennsylvania. My son, in concern for my well being and fear of exposing me, gave me only one chance to see them and hold them before they left. Other family members were very careful. I also lost face to face with my dear friends at church when Grace was forced to cancel services.
Then came the tornado on Easter Sunday, hitting my daughter’s house and many other houses, and our dear church building with its funny additions and twists, gone. (Yes, I know the church is people, not buildings, but life happened there, funerals, weddings, holiday services, weekly seeing those we love, and we had already lost those face to face meetings.) To get to my daughter’s, I must pass that heartbreaking corner.
And Covid continues—isolation, masks (and tension between the maskers and the no-maskers, often between family members), limited supplies (thanks to my daughters I’m doing very well in that realm.) Thank goodness the toilet paper crisis seems to be past!
Then there are health issues, my own and those of people I love. Many of those with health issues I can only text or call; I’m not allowed to see them. Some of them have been in the hospital, dropped off at the front door, not even one person with them. Others have been allowed one visitor, but it hasn’t been me. And those who have actually lost a loved one during this time have been deprived of receiving hugs or having someone cry with them. We have lost that privilege.
All of these have pulled blocks from my Jenga tower. It is wobbling dramatically. If one more block is removed, the whole thing may come crashing down. But then I remember, my tower is not a Jenga tower with blocks being removed daily, threatening its stability.
“The name of the Lord is a strong tower; The righteous run to it and are safe.” Proverbs 18:10
“Blessed be the Lord my Rock. . . My lovingkindness and my fortress, My high tower and my deliverer, My shield and the One in whom I take refuge.” Psalm 144:1-2.
“The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, My God, my rock in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. “ Psalm 18:2
“Be to me a rock of strength, a stronghold to save me. For you are my rock and my fortress.” Psalm 31:1-2
“I will say to the Lord, my refuge and my fortress, My God, in whom I trust.” Psalm 91:2
Though pieces of my Jenga tower seem to be trembling, I have a strong tower—it cannot tremble, it will not fall. God is my strong tower, my refuge, my fortress. I will trust and I will thank Him.
The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped. Therefore my heart exults, and with my song I shall thank Him.” Psalm 28:7
Faith Himes Lamb
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