I recently had a close look at a parachute and discovered that they are intensionally designed with a hole in the middle. It is disturbing and counterintuitive to find a hole in such a place! I thought a parachute was like a boat, where a hole is the last thing you want to find. Turns out a parachute without a hole never billows, never fills, never breaks your fall.
I am beginning to wonder about the “holes” in my life. An arthritic knee that no longer bends as it once did. Ears that lose words in the background hum that is getting louder. Phantom aches and pains that remind me that youth has been replaced with a scarred maturity I’m not all that comfortable with.
There are other holes in the canvas of my story. Unpatched. Uncovered. Unexplained. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll fall through one of those holes, like the one in my financial retirement plan.
Then I hear a familiar Voice whisper soft and strong, “The holes are where the grace flows in. The holes are visible reminders that you need Me. Some of them I put there before you were born. Others were punched out, torn out, ripped out, with and without your consent. Each one is a distant echo of My own nail pierced holes, where grace flowed and finished forever the final impact of the first Fall. I leave them there to remind you that you are not yet a whole cloth, or free to fly.”