Grab the Faucet

When I was six, I took a bath.

As my toes, legs, then lower half slowly soaked in the warmth of the water, I smiled. Blissfully unaware that a few minutes into it, a 7.3 earthquake would strike Southern California.  

As the earth beneath me began to give way, the water grew choppy, sloshing around me. Before I could process what was happening, waves began forming, building momentum, as the water swelled into the front of the tub, then crashed into the back. My little body, with not much weight to steady it, slipped and slid with the frantic water repeatedly for what felt like minutes. The water roared. The ground groaned. My heart hammered.

In sheer panic, I reached for something secure to hold onto… something to steady me.

I grasped onto the soap dish holder. Didn’t work. Slip, slide. Splash.

I tried squeezing my wet arms as tightly as I could against the side of the tub. Didn’t work. Slip, slide. Splash.

Finally, I wrapped my dripping, shaky fingers around the faucet and clung on for dear life.

“Mooooooooooooooommm!!!”

No one came.

I was alone.

The water continued sloshing, crashing, this way and that, until the angry ground had its fill and finally stopped its quaking. It felt like minutes before the water settled down too.

And until it did, I didn’t dare let go of that faucet.

My anchor.

Now, here I sit, 30+ years later, thinking of this memory, yet again…  Why???

It’s been 30+ years (queue the Titanic music)… but, maybe it’s because it’s taken 30+ years to appreciate the meaning of this micro, yet monumental moment in my early life.

Feelings aren’t final, and perspective is limited.

You see, I FELT alone, but I wasn’t. My mom was there, somewhere, prepping my older brothers and herself for a wedding we were about to attend that day. She got to me as soon as she could.

And though her absence felt like an eternity to my shaking six-year-old self, in hindsight I see, I was never alone. God was there, holding me, securing myself under his watchful care. Providing a faucet for me to hold onto. Could He have stopped the earthquake with one word? Yes. Could He have calmed the waters? He’d done it before! But, He didn’t. He let the waters run wild. But… He kept my head above them. Every single second.

So maybe, instead of remembering this as the day the earthquake hit, stealing my sense of safety, I’ll choose to remember this as the day God provided a faucet.

Because since that day, He’s proven, time and again, that He’s always right there, waiting for me to grab ahold of Him.

My anchor in the storm.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging… He says “Be Still, and know that I am God… The LORD Almighty is with us.” (Psalm 46)