So divinely is the world organized,

that every one of us, in our place and time,

is in balance with everything else.

–Johann Wolfgang VonGoeth

1749 – 1832

While stopped at a busy school crosswalk the other morning, I pulled my focus away from schedules and work strategies long enough to notice the parade of humanity, passing before my car. What a enchanting array of individuals had spontaneously assembled in their quest to get somewhere. There were parents walking with their elementary-aged students to school, kids peddling bikes and retirees walking their dogs. They were energetic and dressed in brightly-colored layers, perfect for the moist mornings and delightfully warm afternoons we’ve been experiencing of late. They were a great looking bunch.

But it was an attractive teenage girl, hurrying through the crosswalk after most of the crowd had dispersed to the other side of the street, who stood out from the crowd. Dressed to perfection with hair neatly pulled up onto her head, she scurried across the street in a balancing act that would amaze a Barnum and Bailey juggler. In her arms she carried a binder and pile of books. Atop her school supplies she balanced a brightly decorated cake, stored in a clear plastic container. Tied to her wrist rose a bunch of helium-filled balloons that might have carried her away had it not been for the bulky, yet completely stylish platform shoes on which she balanced herself and the load.

Stopping for the briefest moment at the base of the curb, I watched in fascination as she carefully eyed the step before artfully making her way onto the sidewalk—platforms, party items, school supplies, and all.

I looked down at my foot, resting on the brake pedal of my car. I liked my bright red toenails, carefully painted the night before, but I long ago abandoned the platform shoes. I love the look, but too often forget where my feet are going. My thoughts are too lofty to look for the curb; my mind racing too far ahead for my feet to keep pace.

It’s all about balance.

Sometimes I lose my balance and I cannot blame the platform shoes, only myself. I lose my balance when I dare to believe I can go it on my own, that I have the strength of character and energy, perseverance and good intentions to make my way across the street and up the curb without dumping my load. On the days I venture out without giving God a good morning greeting or inviting Him into my day, asking Him to draw near to somebody I love or acknowledging that I can feel His presence when my son kisses my cheek, I invariably lose my balance. And my timing. And my ability to think clearly enough.

And because I despise those days, I am learning to avoid them by giving myself a spiritual check. I privately work down a list of questions: Am I worshiping with others? Am I spending any time sharing my faith with others? Have I looked at my personal mission statement lately and am I fulfilling my purpose in this life? Am I growing in character and in what ways am I ministering to those around me? In the answers I find the balance.

Balance also comes when you take the time and gather the courage to share your life experiences with those walking a similar path. Balance comes when you bravely face circumstances that concern you, remembering that a full life is lived one season at a time. Balance comes when you return to the people and activities that offer you courage and energy. Balance comes when you look for God at every turn.