Saturday’s Ruminations… A Fork?

It’s a Saturday.
We took one dog in the truck to be shaved and bathed.
Went to the hardware store.

It’s a Saturday.
The garden has been picked.
Snap beans have been snapped (I loved writing that, don’t ask me why–I have no idea).

It’s a Saturday.
Normal life goes on.

Even with a headache today, I can still appreciate the life we have been given. And find many, many reasons to be thankful.

Unknown to anybody else but God, earlier today I had a pretty intense crying spell. I cried quite hard for my friend Mark who lost his son in a car accident Thursday evening. He was 19. I cried for the parents of the 16 year old girl who was killed with him. I cried for my friend Randy who wrestles just as hard as I do, but about a year or so behind me on this insane dizzy journey of loss. I cried for other parents too. For John and Maggy. I cried for parents who are almost paralyzed by the fear of joining this unfortunate soiree.

In full disclosure, my crying jag didn’t start out that way. It begin with an attempt to do what is so very hard for me. It began with prayer. Just me and God (I know that isn’t correct, but it’s my blog and I type how I want to…). I began by trying once again to explain my desperate need for peace with Him. I talked about all the ways I have tried to justify Him. I tried to talk about my need to have all these unanswered questions answered… about how my faith, trust, and hope is so dependent on answers even as I try to live without them. Even as I try with all my heart to find a new me, a new ministry, a new niche in serving those who need to be served…

So I prayed. Prayer turned into anger which in turn segued into tears.

One of my old friends from high school wrote me this week and said…

I think in your former life you were like a silver goblet. The kind they use in Catholic communion. Everyone drinks from the cup. It’s ornate and everyone likes to touch it as they take a drink. But God decided to melt the goblet and make something different. Now He will make you into a fork. Not as noticeable by the crowd, but more useful. The fork is what gets the meat into the hungry person’s mouth. It is used one person at a time, so it’s a more intimate relationship than the goblet. Les, I think you will be able to feed people that are truly hungry for the REAL God in a way that most “preachers” will never be able to.

The truth? That’s not what I necessarily wanted to hear.
The truth? I needed to hear it.

I never imagined my relationship with God would be so hard. I have had my Jonah moments of rebellion and pride. Who hasn’t? But this feels so different even if it isn’t.

I am trying to wrap my mind around being a fork…

How would you describe yourself?

Les Ferguson

10 thoughts on “Saturday’s Ruminations… A Fork?

  1. I love the fork concept. There are all sizes…..the small shrimp fork up to the
    large meat fork. We can all help feed each other, some able to deliver more meat, but we can all feed someone.

  2. I can’t think of anything better to be than a fork or spoon. What an awesome metaphor. I am so thankful for your friend who was able to give you those words at just the right time… and thankful for the God who put him in your life.

  3. Love the analogy…love you and the family….wish I could remove all the pain. But the truth is I really love what your friend has to say and the analogy, fork is great and the most important tool (my opinion ) of them all. Unless, that is, you are my age and then it is the napkin (or maybe a tarp – we just had a fellowship dinner and apparently I like to wear my food as much as eat it). Keep praying, keep blogging, and keep sharing cause you see it is helping those of us who are not quite as brave as you are….helping us to move closer than we have ever been….

  4. Have to add comic relief here and say I’m undecided what I am–guess that makes me a spork. 😉 Les, you were indeed a MIGHTY goblet who is being metamorphosed into a very MIGHTY fork! 🙂

  5. Honestly? After being abused as a child, left to raise three kids alone, married the second time to a pastor/abuser, I am just glad to be somewhere at the table. I am now a therapist who specializes in counseling victims of abuse and domestic violence. If I had to be honest, I am probably just a napkin and not the linen kind. I have too many scars for that.

    • Kathy, I agree that scars are so very hard–and most of the time they are forever reminders. I hope you get to a place where your scars are not quite as sensitive–I hope I do as well. I also hope your napkin becomes stronger and more capable to help wipe away the pain of others.

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