Holding on for Dear Life…
When I was a little boy, rodeos had calf scrambles. To give the adult cowboys and cowgirls a break, they would call for all the boys to come into the arena for the calf scramble about midway through the rodeo. The boys were paired up, and then about twenty or so light calves were turned loose in the arena. The idea was the boys would run after a calf, tackle it, and then pull it back across a line of chalk. The first ones across the line were the winners.
It was supposed to be an even match: four legs against four legs, two-hundred-pound calves against two one-hundred-pound boys. That was the theory. In reality, the calves had the advantage. Their four legs were coordinated, but the boys’ legs were not. In addition, school-age boys have not yet learned to cooperate. More than once, I saw a boy pushing one end of the calf while his partner was pushing the other end. The calf was getting squeezed in the middle. Finally, the boys had to chase the calves, catch them, and pull them across the line. All the calves had to do was avoid the boys. Advantage: calves.
The calf scramble was the comedic highlight of the rodeo. I remember my cousins James and Kelly grabbing one of the larger calves and being drug to the far side of the arena. My brother Steve and our cousin Bubba were both small. They got ahold of a small calf and were pulling that calf to the line when the calf broke out its secret weapon: it pooped. Steve and Bubba, so close to the prize, let go at the same moment, and the calf got away.
The calf scramble I remember most was when one of the younger boys (it might have been Kenny Sanders?) and his partner got ahold of the calf. His partner had the calf in a headlock, and Kenny had the calf by the tail. They were pulling the calf backward toward the line when, for some inexplicable reason, the boy let go of the head, leaving Kenny holding onto the tail. The calf, sensing some freedom, found new strength and set out of the opposite end of the arena, with Kenny still gripping the tail.
The sensible thing to do, of course, would be to let go of the tail. Seven-year-old boys are not sensible. Kenny held on with a death grip, perhaps fearing what would happen if he let go and landed in one of the piles of, shall we say, “processed grass.” The calf drug Kenny around that arena four or five times. Kenny wouldn’t let go, and the calf couldn’t shake him. While our eyes were all on Kenny, two other boys managed to get their calf across the line. My memory here is a little hazy. I can’t remember if Kenny heard the horn and gave up or if he was still holding on when one of the adults came over and told him to let go. Kenny did not win, but the calf did not win either.
Not too long ago, I talked to a man who had lost his wife, his mother-in-law, and four other relatives to Covid. He was left with two teenage children. I asked him how he survived. He said, “I just held on for dear life.”
I do not believe there is any such thing as a charmed life. Trouble comes to everyone. Everyone I know experiences floods of trouble when it seems like one crisis piles on top of the other. In those moments, it feels like all you can do is hold on for dear life.
Sometimes, the crisis is so strong that it feels like our grip is slipping. We believe we can manage more than we can. People believe they can shut down their emotions. Maybe they can for a while, but emotions have a way of bursting out at the most inconvenient times. Instead of holding on for dear life, people say, “I am barely hanging on.”
Maybe our way of thinking about this is all wrong. Instead of trying to hold on for dear life, maybe we need to be held. There is a great promise of God in Isaiah 41: 13 – “For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”
To have God hold our hand means we face nothing on our own. Even if life is dragging us around the arena, God has us. We may grieve, we may hurt, we may be angry. But our Heavenly Father says, “Don’t be afraid. I will help you. What you need, I have.”
When you find yourself holding on for dear life, remember who holds you.
(Kenny, if my memory is faulty, and it wasn’t you who held onto the calf’s tail, I apologize)