Right out of college, I worked at a Treatment Center for youth, particularly with those that were violent. I had some amazing times with the boys, that in many ways were lost in a world that did not want them. While most times were good, there were others...
At dinner, we passed around the bowls filled with various makings for the tacos. Like most nights, we had cooked our own food, preparing for when society was re-entered. Each took their portion, leaving some for the next.
When at last the salsa made its round, one young man poured it all upon his plate and then passed the empty jar. When he refused to share, I told him I would have to portion it out. As I reached across the table, his fork slashed out like a striking snake. In the nick of time, my hand pulled back.
My eyes lifting to meet his, found his plate of food on it's way. Salsa flooded into my eyes, burning, clouding them from the incoming jar that had become a missile. Off my forehead, it crashed to the ground. Over the table, I met him with a bear hug and held on until help could arrive.
Life can seem so out of control at times. While there are some things we can control, there is much that we can not. Coming to grips with this is a battle, as we struggle with what we feel entitled to and go to great lengths to get our way, blurring the lines between what we want and what we need. The need to control makes us do things we never thought we would. Our faith seems to be greater in our own effort to hold things together. At least that is something I have to fight inside myself, daily.