Today, I took an adventure. I went to one of my secret spots by the pond
and sat on the bank beneath a tree. The
sun was shining, the sky was bright, and the clouds were daintily gazing at
their reflections in the water as they floated by. The mountains stood heroically on the
horizon, like they always do, and flocks of geese scurried to and fro above the
forest of naked trees.
It took me a while to settle in. Too many thoughts barraged my heart with
unsolicited advice when all I needed was to be. That’s really hard, you know. Even in silence, I feel the presence of responsibilities
breathing heavily down my neck.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember what it felt like when we were kids,
soaking in each moment as they came, never caring what anyone thought of us.
I have choices to make.
How will I know which is right?
There are people I’ve never met that I miss. Is that even possible? There is a world waiting to be explored,
cultures to be tasted, memories to be made.
Is this one of them?
As I sat beneath that sweet tree, I listened to the silence which was only interrupted by the occasional beep of a distant earth mover. No words of wisdom prevailed themselves
upon me until, softly, there came:
“Does not your Father, who feeds the sparrows and clothes
the lilies, care for you more than these? Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow
will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew
6:25-34, paraphrased)
And that was enough.
For today, it slaked my thirst for meaning, for hope, for validation
that my feet are on the right patch of dirt.
I always have so many questions, and there never seem to be enough
answers. But God knows what He’s doing, so maybe I should just let go.
