Trail of Faithfulness

I sit on the bank of the lake, legs dangling in the water. My family vacations here at the end of each summer, and it’s evident why. The lake is stunning. The water begins clear and colorless but deepens to opaque navy as the lake bed drops. The entire lake is ringed with sturdy pines, making the air smell sharp and fresh.

I kick at the water. The sunlight glances off the lake’s surface, then dances in condensed ripples around my ankles. Everything out here is so peaceful.

Everything inside of me is in turmoil.

Next week I’ll start my first grown-up job. I’ll move across the state. I’ll pack up the last of my belongings from my childhood room. Anxiety and excitement and loss are muddled together in my chest, and I don’t know how to sort through them.

I often feel closer to God when I’m surrounded by nature. The power of his creation -- wind and green growth -- reminds me of his omnipotence. The minute details of his creatures, even the smallest mosquito, reminds me that I matter. But I can’t feel him today. Instead, I feel alone and lost.

Lord, where are you? How can I trust that you’ll lead me forward into this next stage of life?

I feel a tug deep down inside of me. And I realize that in looking forward, I’m forgetting to look back. This isn’t the first time I’ve stared at this lake with an unsettled spirit. Over the years, our family vacations had been shadowed by other changes in my life.

Three years ago, I was preparing to begin law school.

Five years ago, I had decided to take a hiatus from college.

Seven years ago, I was leaving home for the first time.

And each time, God had led me to new, good things. He had introduced me to incredible people and created joy in unexpected places. If I look backward, I can trace the trail of His faithfulness to this very moment. I’d wondered where I could find Him, but He’s been here all along.

So instead of sorting through the feelings I can’t make sense of, I’ll submit them to Him. He has a way of sorting things out.