Lesson from an Escalator Ride

Travel-weary and overwhelmed, I stood at the bottom of a three-story escalator that would take me to the main Atlanta airport terminal. The sheer height of the structure was dizzying; I’ve always struggled a bit with heights. Gazing upward, I found myself disconcerted as I imagined riding to the very top.

I took a deep breath and carefully stepped on, dragging my bag behind me. I found that fixing my gaze on the step I was on helpful. I didn’t need to look at how far I would ascend. Looking too far ahead just caused consternation.  So I deliberately kept my focus on where I stood.

There are times when looking too far into the future rocks our world. One of these hit our family just last week. My daughter-in-law Bethany went into premature labor. Our newest grandson was in distress; that afternoon he was delivered by an emergency c-section seven weeks before his due date. Way too early.

Daniel came down from delivery to give us grave news.

Little Joseph had been whisked away to the NICU after being resuscitated several times. He barely clung to life, his little lungs struggling to take in oxygen against the pressure of serious fluid built up in his abdomen. He was severely anemic.

There was even worse news. There seemed to be indicators that if Joseph lived, it would be with a life-long handicap.

As I hugged Joseph’s other grandmother in the minutes following the initial news, both of us in agony for our little grandson and for our children’s pain, I sobbed, “We’ll get through this. We have each other and we have the Lord. We are never without hope.” She heartily agreed. God would carry us through. No matter what the future held.

It’s been 11 days. God has carried us. Joseph was transferred to Children’s Hospital a few hours after he was born. Hundreds of family members, friends, and even total strangers on Facebook committed to pray as updates were posted online. Meals began to arrive at our door, a huge blessing, for planning meals and cooking them was not even on the radar screen. Calls to express love and support kept the phone ringing off the hook. An envelope appeared on our door with an anonymous gift of cash to help with Daniel’s traveling expenses to and from D.C. The medical staffs of both hospitals were wonderful in their care of Bethany and Joseph. Extended family stepped up to the plate and provided childcare, hospital companionship, and emotional support. God was revealing himself in every detail. And slowly baby Joseph began to improve.

I wish I could tell you I didn’t struggle with it all. I had a lot of questions for God. Gazing at our helpless baby, lying still and unresponsive in the incubator under wires and tubes and billyrubin lights, I found myself doubting God’s goodness. But my agony wasn’t really for the present: Joseph was holding his own and slowly gaining strength. Our needs were met. God had proved abundantly sufficient in the here and now.

My fear concerned the future. How would my children and grandchildren’s lives be affected by all this? What would it all mean in terms of needed care and expenses? What kind of future would little Joseph have?

A week after Joseph’s birth, I traveled to Atlanta for a book signing event. Standing on that intimidating airport escalator, determinedly focused on the step I was on, I suddenly realized my problem. I was looking too far ahead, fretting over things that may never materialize.

God is the great I AM. He is in the present, all-sufficient, ready to do more than we can ask or even think. When we look too far ahead, letting our imaginations frighten us as we envision a future without his provision or even involvement, the world becomes a scary place. But it’s not the real world. It’s a world of our anxious imaginings. In the real world, God will continue to provide. He will continue to be sufficient. No matter what circumstances may be, He is bigger than them and will not allow us to be overwhelmed.

Lesson from an Atlanta escalator ride: Dear Julie: Don’t look too far ahead. Focus on God’s sufficiency in the here and now. Remember his faithfulness of the past. And trust him to compose the future, not your fickle imagination.

(If you are interested, you can track Joseph’s progress here. Please pray for him!)