I'm not at camp worship. Instead, I'm in the fireside lounge, trying to figure out how to tell my professor why my homework is late. But I should be at worship. But I need to be here. I'm torn apart because a small worry that's ingrained its sand-like stature at the base of my spine. I'm sure to be yelled at soon. By somebody. By anybody.
I was sitting her in the lounge looking behind me at the lake when i remembered the drive back from camp prep on saturday. I had sighed in relief as we set out because my 15 passenger van was no longer full of a thousand pounds of shaky, sliding, unreliable stage material. Instead, just as I hit the highway, a the skies opened up and a torrential downpour monsooned over my now seemingly little vehicle. I couldn't see. It was getting dark, the wind was pushing my car literally across the highway. There were no streetlights, no cd player, and no driving directions. No exageration implied whatsoever, all I had were the two taillights of the shuttle Ty was driving in front of me to guide me home. It gave me sight to about ten feet in front of me, and that about it.
Neither of us liked it in the least.
My knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel and I was desperate to get myself not to overreact. Heave a breath in, out, in, out, inoutinout in, out. For the next four hours I had to do something that took every inch of energy in me--I had to trust.
Sometimes you have to blindfold a horse to get it out of a fire.
And as I passed a blurr of trees My Love's peace feel on my like snow. Just like the newfound wilderness He had been leading me into, I had to trust in Him for the next step. Not the next 10. I wasn't allowed to see that far ahead. When I took the next step, then the step after that would imlluminate. But only then.
He is the only one who can fill me up. He's the only one who can hold me still when my world is submerged in earthquakes.
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