If I’m standing and I close my eyes, I wobble. It’s a balance thing. It’s about proprioceptors, something medically-multi-syllabic, I dunno. During church, when we’re standing and the pastor says “bow your heads to pray,” I bow my head, shut my eyes, and reach for the chair in front of me. It steadies me and keeps me from weaving drunkenly at 9 a.m. on the Sabbath.

Touching something solid helps me fight the wobble.

Our family is jumping into some changes in the coming weeks. My kids are going to school this year rather than schooling at home with me. And I’ll be teaching, but I’m teaching mostly other people’s kids. These are good changes (Stupendous! Exciting! Thrilling!), opportunities we chose, but the scary is real at our house as the first day of school approaches.

As one of my kids put it, “We’re all a bit ‘Nerv-Cited.’”

As I ponder all of the New looming ahead- new uniforms, new schedules, new teachers, new expectations, new curriculums, new faces, new community… I feel the need to grab the chair in front of me just typing the list. The swirl of worry and So Many Unknowns makes me feel a bit wobbly. I wonder how to make my kids feel secure when I feel as if our little family ship is headed for Adventure Falls.

Speaking of ships, remember Odysseus? When he sailed through the dangerous waters near the Sirens, he ordered his men to lash him to the mast of the ship. He anchored himself to the only thing that could keep him safe through the danger.

The things on the horizon for us aren’t dangerous, really, but they are Unknown. We’ve even had the blessing of time to prepare and make a plan. But I can’t make my kids (and myself) not feel nerv-cited, I can’t make every transition smooth, every assignment easy, every classmate a friend. I’m the Grown-Up, not their fairy godmother.

But I can model for them how to hold on tight so they don’t wobble when the change comes. Realistically, not all changes that come into my kids’ lives in the future will be good. And they may not have happy endings, not until Jesus comes back.

Maybe if my kids see me clinging, arms and legs wrapped tightly and eyes screwed shut, to the One True Thing –  if they see me in the Word, praying my nerves out loud, admitting when I’m scared and that I’m trusting Jesus to hold us all in His hand, if I keep pointing them to Truth when the world brings them questions… then maybe they’ll learn how to hold tight when change – and ordinary life – swirls around them.

This morning in church we sang the words:

“You are my Rock, and You never change.”

I closed my eyes to take it in, grasped the chair in front of me, and braced myself against the wobble. My security is in Christ. His grace is enough. His strength is sufficient. And His glory is already achieved. So now we hold on tight for the ride…