"When a ball dreams, it dreams it’s a Frisbee."
~ Stancil Johnson ~
I love to play catch... with footballs and Frisbees. Nothing feels more like fall than tossing a football between friends once the weather is cool enough to demand sporting a sweatshirt. And nothing feels feels more like summer than chasing a Frisbee barefoot across a dandelion inundated grassy field in some random park...
Likewise, throwing and catching footballs and Frisbees are two completely different animals.
Footballs are pretty predictable and precise - and that's good, because you need that in those "fallish" seasons of life.
Frisbees, on the other hand, are anything but. Unlike a ball, they are characteristically capricious. They glide and float, arc and curve; they fly fast, straight and hard or seem to soar, swoop and bounce along with the wind. If you know what you are doing, a flung Frisbee can impersonate a boomerang.
I love watching kids, little ones especially, learn how to throw and catch a Frisbee. But the catching is conspicuously challenging. One moment, little one is so sure and reaches high in an attempt to clap that disk between their hands. Then the Frisbee sways to the right or left... or it drops suddenly... or it bounces just out of reach. Off goes the child, chasing after escaped plastic, often giggling from surprise, excitement and determination to capture that thing the next time.
They'll do this for hours.
So how does it happen that once I grew up, and God launched a few "Frisbees" my direction... yet when I reached, His carrying wind lifted it up and out of my reach... even when I jumped? Then, instead of seeing fun, adventure and another opportunity... instead of giggling, I stomp away, instead of taking off to chase it down?
Sometimes all it takes is a few more steps, before that Frisbee floats right back within grasp.
Linking up with Kate. Won't you join us? What stories come to mind when you see the word, "reach?"