Well, the water beckons again. I'm sitting on a bluff overlooking the crashing waves of Lake Erie. This time, I've been offered the gift of a getaway for the express purpose of writing.
I am extremely grateful for this chance to soak in nature's beauty and allow my mind the space to slow down and process. Not process for the sake of words to be written, but JUST process... and to have time to notice the processing. Sight of surroundings comes and goes, but being able to FEEL the surroundings- the slight spring breeze that just whispered it's presence behind my glasses, cooling my eyelids, somehow plants me solidly in this moment. The sound of Josh Snodgrass's lilting acoustic guitar softly rides the waves which are making their own music at the bottom of the cliff ten feet from where I'm writing. The taste of the roasted pecan coffee from a random pod offered by the rental's host (delicious, by the way!), the outdoors' fresh and windy cleansing of scent which erases all residue of "dampness" that infiltrates a lake cottage to assault the nose (worth it for the view!) all help me pay attention.
As for what I see- there is the lake, which commands attention, not only with it's harsh call, but also it's beautiful and complicated blend of a hundred shades of blue. And then- something I'm trying to ignore...front and center, refusing to be overlooked, is a rather large and somewhat spindly branched maple tree. Seriously, this tree seems to think it deserves central focus, forcing a shift of view to the left or right to see what all the fuss is about in that little thing called one of the Great Lakes.
Not gonna lie, this tree jumped out as a hindrance to front row seats for sunrise, sunsets, and
watching the never-tiring drama of the tide's effect at play in God's handiwork. Kind of hard to not be annoyed at this blockage to a masterpiece, but then I began to wonder, "why?" Why had this host not cut this tree down to offer his guests an uninterrupted view? Surely, the view is what draws visitors here. I'm venturing a guess, based on recent conversations, it must be about erosion. which is a serious threat to those on the shores of Lake Erie. This property is a perfect case in point, it has a slim sidewalk leading to nowhere and crumbled concrete laying on the shoreline below indicates a larger yard in past glory days.
My friend, Deb, who invited me on this adventure of getting away so she can finish writing her book, and I have been been having many deep conversations surrounding God's plans in our
lives. These talks are bouncing around my thoughts as I sit here looking out to the lake on one side of the tree or the other. I feel a shift for what originally felt annoying turn to a feeling of gratitude for the lone tree, which is actually a part of the cliff. I believe this tree and its root system have been left to thrive, regardless of its distraction, for the very purpose of preserving this property. The strong roots deeply entrenched in the bluff are shoring up this wall of sediment, acting as a protective breakwall against further breakdown from the elements. Perhaps without this very tree, I would not be sitting here.
This brings to mind my conversations with Deb surrounding how annoyed I am at my own
feeling "stuck" due to the inability to see next steps in what I am being called to do.
Perhaps this is the moment to wonder about the "why" instead of just wishing for a clear view. I sense the significance of God's timing at play. Of course it would be delightful to be able to see what lies ahead and how it will be received. But I don't have that- I have a sidewalk that just drops off while the calling is to keep moving forward. And yet, like the root system preserving this land from falling into the lake, perhaps there is a gift buried deep beneath my annoying blockage of uncertainty. This not seeing what is ahead is an invitation to step out in faith, trusting I won't crumble. There must be a healthy reason as to why I can not see what is to be- and how God sees it is not always necessary, nor in our best interest, to have full access to this view.
There is a message in this: Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). I'm learning the nature of God, the Father, is Love. Love does what is best for the one who is loved. I am learning, even now, to trust. That trust is causing me to look to the left and right of uncertainty, find beauty in the view and move forward, regardless of not seeing the full picture. This tree in the cliff is now shoring me up. It is reassuring me it is ok to trust that what is blocking my view is more than a bother...somewhere hidden, it is a protection, and without it, I could crumble.
I am taking the next steps, even though I can not see where they will land.
Interesting tidbit- the book Deb is working on is titled, "Leap of Faith."
Click link below for the song playing in my head:
TRUST by Sixpence None The Richer
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