There once was a man who invited a poor boy to live in his house and enjoy the fruits of his gardens and company of his family. The poor boy lived many days travel away still and the man sent very detailed instructions of how to get to his house. He began to look into the instructions and immediatly became overcome with anxiety. It detailed many nice inn’s to stay along the way. But the boy knew he hadn’t the money to stay in them. It also mentioned a oddly named bussying line that the boy had never heard of. He had always traveled by the train, and preferred it. Nuts and dried fruits were mentioned to take along with him, but the boy preferred meat sticks and cheese and so would take instead. Nearly everything was overlooked by the boy on this list of instructions, even the route. “I know a faster way!” said the boy. And he left one brightly lit morning. He rode the train east and slept under the stars and ate his meat and cheese. And at first everything was alright. But trains need tracks and the tracks eventually stopped and he began to walk there after. With each night, it was colder and colder, and soon, he spent much of the night awake and shaking. His journey was a long one, and soon his meat and cheese began to spoil, even one night an animal came and took the rest of the spoiled goods. Hungry, tired, and heartbroken he walked on numbly. He cursed the man for making him take such a vicious journey…
to be continued…
this boy finds himself residing in my past 7 months. Anxiety has ruled the day, and for a good while I forgot why. I forgot the instructions. If the boy would have followed the man’s instructions he would have found that each inn’s fee mentioned was already taken for him, and the bussing line cost only dimes and went directly to his estate. And the nuts and dried fruits would not have spoiled as easily would have easily gotten him through the journey healthy. When I started out on this journey God simply told me that he will prepare me. I said “Ok!” and immediatly drew out a plan of getting to January 1st prepared and ready to go. I worked hard and fast and long on this plan, even now. The only fruit of my labor is an aweful anxiety. Dependence on God is the only independence of this anxiety. I did not write the end of this story, because I will soon find its end. I hold on to the promise that I will be prepared, in earnest hope that it is not a promise that I am no longer in reach of. So I, like the boy, walk in shame, hungry and tired towards the times of things better. Hope will be fruits and nuts.
