Today a massive cloud of ash moved its way from the spewing mouth of an Icelandic volcano down across much of Europe and just like that, it shut down air travel across a wide swath of the globe.
In its wake are thousands of people stuck at airports or at the very least with annoying last-minute changes to their plans. Hundreds who have had to be evacuated from their homes because, oh yeah, the volcano happened to be sitting under a glacier.
It’s funny how often we fool ourselves into thinking we are in control. I don’t know about you, but I really like to think I have a firm grip on life – even knowing in my deepest self that I’m faking it. I’m a bit of a control freak, really. I think we all are in our own ways. But in moments like these, and in ones that aren’t quite so bizarre, it’s pretty clear that we’re not.
While that drives me crazy more often than not – patience is not really one of my virtues – it should actually be a massive relief for a people pleaser like myself. Because it sometimes feels like I’m Atlas carrying around a bronze world on my shoulders. When the truth of the matter is: I don’t have to.
And really it comes down to who I think God is, which is way too often way too small. So here’s to a God who knows the exact number of the billions of ash particles in a certain cloud making its way across a rather small continent in a planet in a solar system in a galaxy in a possibly infinite universe. And here’s to a God who also knows the number of hairs on my head and each moment of my day.
His eye is on the sparrow.
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