on the tail end of some very full weeks, while the world is in its beginning stages of talk of this covid virus, we find ourselves seeking rest and refreshment in the mountains during our planned spring break.
mere days before we loaded up our truck and headed for the hills we learned of beginning measures against a new and unknown threat- canceling school an extra week, canceling church services and gatherings of more than 100. our trek to the mountains is to our own cabin, so we keep our plans. for now, we will rest.
and for the first few days it is great rest. we talk a little about the unknown virus, about adjustments of school and wondering what that all means, but we don’t feel anxious or afraid about any of it.
not because we are such faithful people who never are afraid. mostly because the adjustments at this point really aren’t so bad. an extra week off of school and delayed start to baseball season? ok, we can handle that.
and so we build puzzles and play catan and read books by the fire.
and then the clouds roll in. this is Colorado in the spring-our snowiest season. this particular storm brings 12-16” of snow. the sun covers herself in a blanket of cloud and fog envelops the cabin. our truck is stuck in the deep drifts. our solar panels are out there unseen and alone-unable to bring us power from a hidden sun.
this is when the fear; real, physical and tangible, sets in. awakening in a cold cold cabin, wondering-will we run out of firewood? will we run out of food or water? are we really prepared for as long as this will take?
it is all completely out of our control. the storm could pass in a day or 2 and we will be fine. or it could linger longer than we knew to plan for.
the boys, however, are delighted. they bundle up and spend hours upon days building sledding paths, tobogganing, sledding, snowboarding. they come in for food and then head back out. they declare these are the best days ever! they have no idea of the worries we carry-the work to keep the fire fed, the power consumption low, conserve the water. they have no thought that there is anything amiss-even when we explain the need for good stewardship of our resources-they shrug in agreement, cease in leaving the door open letting out the heat, and return to their play.
as I watch their freedom in the midst of the storm i’m struck with their utter trust in my husband and i to be capable of taking care of things and keeping them safe.
wrapped in that cloud, deep calls unto deep as the Spirit directs His whisper to my pounding heart;
where is my trust in the actual One who is capable? The One who has control over the sun and wind and waves? Can i, in the unknown days ahead, entrust myself to His capable hands? will i be mindful of not leaving the doors open, yet with a heart at peace and free to experience the joy still available in the storm?
the pounding subsides, i turn and bank up the fire, receiving the peace His correction ushers in.
i see exhortation for what it is. an invitation to walk these days ahead, wise and mindful yes, but with peace and childlike trust in the One who numbers my days and is with me in the storm.
may the One who knows our bents, enable us to trust in Him one step, one storm, at a time.