Over the Fence

When I was a little girl, our neighbors to the southwest of us had a six-foot wooden fence surrounding their backyard. From the time I was about 10 years old, one of my missions in life was to see what was on the other side of that fence. It was more than mere curiosity that drove me; it was a mystical force of some sort that caused my friends and me to spend hours devising plans to scale the jail-like wooden bars and creating scenarios of what might lie in wait over the fence.

Eventually, when I was in my late teens, our neighbors sold their house and the new owners promptly removed the fence from the property. You can imagine my disappointment in seeing that there was nothing more than a patio with a table and chairs, some flowers and a few trees populating the land that in our childhood imaginations had been filled with aliens and prairie folk and even The Partridge Family bus (stolen of course by our neighbors who were spies).

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about that fence and about my childhood home. Losing family members and reconnecting with old friends seems to be drawing my heart toward home quite often. Perhaps it is simply that I'm growing older and getting more nostalgic as time passes. Whatever the cause, my mind in its travels homeward has paused more than once to contemplate the fence and the fascination that it held for me during my years of innocence.

I've always heard it said that with age comes wisdom, but I'm not so sure about the truth in that particular maxim. I find myself still searching and dreaming and wondering what is on the other side of the fence ... wishing that I knew all the answers and had x-ray vision to see through the boards of life. I'd like to know that there is adventure ahead, dreams to be pursued and love to be embraced.

I'm still pretty short in stature, and the fence is still pretty tall, much like when I was a young girl. And I've come to realize that while I'm trying to see over it or create scenarios for what lies beyond its boundaries, I often miss the beauty of what lies right in front of me. I'm so busy trying to figure out the future that I'm missing the present.

So keep me in today, God. Help me to look at You, to trust You and to know that whatever lies over the fence, you already hold in Your hand.