When I was younger, I went through a phase where I was captivated by the yoyo. I started my own collection of yoyos and tried to learn every trick I could possibly learn. Hard as I try, I was never really very good at it. Sure, I got a few tricks down after some time but for the most part, I sucked at yoyo-ing. It’s clearly not my call in my life.
The image of the yoyo has come to my mind quite a bit over the past 24 hours.
I feel like a yoyo in the hands of God. One minute I’m so sure of who He is, His purpose for me-the warmth of His love surrounds me. The next minute I’m dangling, holding on for dear life-feeling lost, alone and abandoned. Where is that hand of direction? Where is my guidance now?
I imagine if yoyos were somehow given life, they’d feel the same way as they’re violently whipped to the floor. Suddenly the world is so much bigger than the hand that holds them. Yet it’s in those moments of release, yoyo dangling and spinning so fast, that we can use the yoyo for what it’s worth, that we can use the yoyo to mesmerize, captivate and perform. Because really, what good is a yoyo in hand if the intent is never to release? Besides, a good yoyo player rarely looses control. Regardless of how the yoyo may feel, the string is always attached and under the guidance of the hand directing it.
Maybe, in some ways, I am a yoyo in the hands of God. Maybe He needs to let go in order for me to mesmerize, captivate, and perform. I don’t know. Honestly, I really don’t. But what I do know is I need to stop living in such a way that I fail to see the string.
