Clinging OR Hold Fast by Barb Walker

I sit on the deck as summer fades to fall and eagerly await its arrival. Cooler temperatures. Bright colored leaves. The smell of them in the air. The childish pleasure of kicking through piles that have fallen to the ground, enjoying their crackle and crunch underfoot. The smell of woodsmoke. Cool evenings snuggled under a blanket on the sofa. Fall is lovely. It brings joy to my heart simply to think of it. Thoughts of fall and God mingle in my mind, the two getting mixed up with each other as feelings of home, a deep breath of peace, and a surging sense of joy.

As I anticipate the arrival of my favorite season I look about me and see the last of the summer’s flowers. I gaze at the vegetable garden I’ve been tending for many months. I know that soon both will be gone. I won’t sit on the deck and look at the pink bouncing heads of my cleome, or say good morning to the Portulaca that makes me think of my mom and grandfather. The last of the vegetables will soon be harvested, the plants pulled up and the ground left to rest until next spring. As I think of these things I realize my feelings of joy and contentment are swiftly being replaced. I’m saddened by the passing of these sights of summer, fearful of their loss. And I realize I’m clinging.

I’ve spent a great deal of my life clinging. To things. To people. To places. To ideas and ideals. Flowers fade. Seasons change. Anticipated events come and go. People leave. As a matter of fact, often in my clinging I’ve forced people away. I think of the fear inherent in my desire to hold on to something. I wonder at my need to cling. My clinging has stemmed from the fear of pain and emptiness, disappointment, confusion, the need to belong and feel loved. As I think of these things I realize that not once in any of these situations has my clinging been helpful.

As thoughts of clinging flow through my mind I realize I’m learning to cling less to people, places and things and more to something that, in clinging, offers positive returns for my efforts. As I think of that thing the joy of clinging blossoms inside of me. The possibilities available in this clinging fill me with hope. To God--my Father, Creator, Protector, Comforter, Savior and Lord--I can cling without worry or fear of loss or negative repercussion.

At times my clinging, even to my Father, is driven by the same old fears, the same old pain, but that’s okay. God can heal those things, whereas people, places, and things offer only a band-aid. Clinging to my Father doesn’t cause him to panic and push me away in fear, nor does he draw me in only to misuse me for selfish purposes. I can bring him everything I have to offer and cling to him for everything I need and it serves only to strengthen my relationship with him. He quiets me and comforts me because he has infinite resources of love, patience, tenderness, wisdom, and peace to offer me. He transforms my thinking so I can learn to understand my unhealthy behaviors and replace them with healthy ones, to think healthy thoughts. In the process, I cling to him more and find that fears and pain subside, discover that the clinging is also at times driven by a positive desire to enjoy this relationship--to seek the peace, hope, and love, to cherish and praise the one who makes these feelings possible.

I’ve found the one thing, the only thing, worth clinging to, the only thing to which I’m meant to cling. And the most beautiful thing is that, in clinging to my great God, no matter the reason, the fear central to my need to cling to my old targets slips away. The emptiness is filled. The fears relieved. The disappointment and pain soothed. The confusion made clear. I find the place I truly belong, where I’m loved beyond measure.


Fear the Lord your God and serve him. Hold fast to him and take your oaths in his name. He is the one you praise; he is your God, who performed for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes. – Deuteronomy 10:20-21