Inspired by the stories and testimonies we have heard during this week’s student week of prayer, I decided to share one of my own.
To properly set the scene, allow me to welcome you into my childhood home. If you look around with me, you'll see pictures, murals, art, and flags, all with some aspect or memory of my family. The photos, packed with images of family and friends, stand as memorials to times gone by. The murals, art, and flags all come from our home in Kenya and the adventures we've shared near and far. Now, I'd like to bring your attention to the furniture of the house. As you walk through the front door and turn your gaze away from the pictures spread across our walls, you will see a piano in a prominent location in our living room. Once you walk past that living room, you will enter our dining room, kitchen, and the rest of the house. As we move in that direction, I should mention that the space between our living room and dining room is relatively narrow. A significant reason for this is that our prominent piano blocks one side of the opening between the dining and living rooms, and a couch rests firmly on the other side. As a result, there is about enough space for two people to walk comfortably and simultaneously between the dining and living rooms.
With this image of my former house structure in mind, it makes sense that my mom had one or two words of wisdom for me as I moved throughout the house. Her number one rule was: “Don’t run in the house.”
Well, 7-year-old Chris had no intention of stopping my then-hobby of zooming throughout my home at break-neck speeds. I was fully aware that we had a back and front yard, as well as a neighborhood filled with places that would be wonderful to run in, but no. I wanted to run in the house.
With my mom’s words in mind, I would continue to sprint from room to room, hoping she wouldn't see me. Like the little incognito spy I was, I would run and stomp and play like there was no tomorrow. Indeed, why would I plan for tomorrow when I could run today?
One day, in the dark and hollowed hours of a Friday evening, I went on my hourly jog. A beautiful day to run, I must have thought, no winds, carpeted floor, there's nothing to stop me. I always knew about that relatively narrow gap between our family piano and the couch that shrunk the space between the dining and living rooms, but it was okay. I already thought of that. As long as no one was exactly in that space at the exact time that I would run by, I was good as gold… talk about foreshadowing.
As the evening progressed and I sneakily galloped through the house, I zipped into the dining room, through the kitchen, around some chairs, and was on a steady course for my living room. But wait. On the horizon, something was there. Someone was there. Mom!
There was no time for thinking, only time for action. If I was walking, I could have comfortably slipped by her, even as she happened to be in the dead center of the dreaded boundary. But I wasn’t walking; I was racing with no time to lose! In a split-second decision that my young mind seemed to think “brave” and “wise,” I looked ahead at my mom, to the left at my couch, and to the right at my piano. Guess which one I decided to run into.
There I was, bleeding, on the ground, with a gaping wound on my face that persists as a scar to this day. The blunt force of the impact with my vicious piano and the resulting shock had the kindness to numb any pain I would have felt. My parents cared for my battle scars while rushing me to the hospital, where I was brought into the Emergency Room and soon received my very first stitches.
Needless to say, after my recovery, I continued to run and frolic throughout the house, but that’s not the point!
The message here is that my mom knew that I could get hurt if I continued doing what I was doing, but even when I did, she wasted no time giving me the help I needed. This week, in evening worship, my grandma suggested we read Psalms 121, where the Psalmist asks where his help comes from. After an assumed moment of reflection, he answers: “My help comes from the Lord.” And in verse three, the text even says, “[God] will not let your foot slip!” That is, of course, not to be taken in the literal “you will never ever slip on the ground” sense. But the idea that, just like my mom was, God is there to help, guide, and watch over us is a piece of comfort that I hoped to share with you, even if you run into a piano.
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of Andrews University. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, Andrews University or the Seventh-day Adventist church.