I was able to work out this morning.  It has been so gorgeous outside lately that I've ditched the gym treadmill (complete with my own TV screen for my viewing pleasure) for a walk outdoors. There's a nice little track for me to make my rounds.  And it's so quiet.  I pray for friends with struggles and I ask questions.  And then I try to cease to be; listening and watching for what God might want to show me.

It's quite a challenge.  As nice as it has been outside, the track looks pretty much the same every time I walk it.  The sounds of zizzing cars rushing down Nederland Avenue can always be heard. But I try.  Last week I saw a single leave that had changed into its fall wardrobe.  It was the perfect shade of fiery red.  It was under a small group of trees around the 100th yard of my 400 yard lap.  I looked forward to that leaf each lap; a reminder of the importance of color- the kind that stands out.

This morning all I noticed was the orange mesh attached to the metal fence that divides the track from the rest of the world.  The morning sky wasn't particularly outstanding, but I looked and I listened.

One stretch of the track butts up to a row of houses. Instead of orange mesh and metal fence, there is a nice wooden fence.  I noticed this morning when I rounded the track how the grass in my view was blotchy and unremarkable. The sun was shining, but the grass patch in front of the wooden fence couldn't decide if it wanted to beam, or just cast a dull shade of gray. It was the kind of gray I feel when friends struggle and I have more questions in my own life than I have answers.

Steps later the grass transformed.  I saw strips of bleak ground broken up by perfect rays of light; the befuddled patch gone. I only had to be in the right place to see light for light.

I remember going to my Meme's as a kid.  All six of my family would pack into the van.  We'd head toward Brownwood.  Sometimes we'd stop and get powdered donuts or some other sugary treat on the way.  When we were almost there we'd peel our eyes searching for the houses and buildings dotted just over the hill so we could shout "I see Brownwood first!".

But I also distinctly remember the middle of the trip.  Somewhere in between Dublin and Comanche, around Proctor, there was a grove of Pecan trees.  Approaching, it just looked like a mess of trees.  But I always knew that if I kept watching, when we got to the right place, I'd see trees lined up perfectly diagonal. For seconds they'd be unarranged again, and then in moments, I'd see them in perfect vertical rows. I looked for those trees on Brownwood trips.

They remind me of life. It seems so blurry, sometimes.  So chaotic. In life, the light seems diffused; mixed in with the dark, creating dull, somber shades. There are times that we do have more questions than answers; more disarray than order.  The problem may well be that as we grow, we often forget to focus.  Like the blotched grass in my path this morning, our hope fades and we get discouraged.  Sometimes we're just downright tired.  We forget to be the girl who watches until the trees line up in perfect order.

…13 I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD In the land of the living.

 

14 Wait for the LORD; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the LORD.

Psalm 27:13,14

The situation we see as a hopeless mess is in His hands.  We need not worry.  We need not sink down in the gray.  We just have to keep our eyes focused, knowing the one who sends forth the rays of the sun is a God of order.  He's a God of peace.  And he's a God of victory.  Just wait for it!