It has been a really long time since I have even attempted to write anything about my life.  It’s hard to believe that August has arrived and my 7 year old will start school on the 30th.  July was packed with weddings and traveling, and June . . . well, I can’t remember back that far.  My family and I have struggled through the last 5 months with illness.  We’ve had viruses mostly, though I do recall a couple of prescriptions for antibiotics floating around in there somewhere.  My toddler was actually hospitalized for dehydration when she was struck with a stomach virus piggy backing a respiratory virus.  Somewhere, oh . . . a few weeks into our long bout with sickness, we had a huge scare.  For a good 30 minutes, my worst fear was rearing it’s head as we thought our first born had been abducted.  Thankfully, it was a matter of poor communication, and she returned home . . .  to two police cars, 3 officers, a very distraught daddy, a confused little sister, and a mommy that was trying hard to keep it together enough to give an accurate description of her missing daughter.   The trauma and illness of this last season has left me quite tired.  Mostly, I am physically and emotionally tired.  Spiritually, even in my worst fear moment, God has made His presence known to me. 

Sometimes I wonder if the Lord doesn’t inspire songs in me as preparation for what is coming.  One song that I keep singing to myself is “The Heights and Depths”.  “I have not left you in the valley, I am here.  And  though sometimes My voice gets quiet, don’t fear.  There is purpose in My mysteries, and I want to show you the heights and depths that good can be”. 

I have had many moments of concern as the path of my life continued to descend deeper into the valley, to places I had either not been to in a very long time, or had never been.  Yet, the Lord gave me also a “picture”, for lack of a better word, that has brought me much comfort.  I suppose it is worth trying to describe.  There is a sheep (that would be me) on a narrow moving sidewalk (like in an airport) on a slight descent into a valley that runs between two “mountains”.  There is a railing on both sides of the “moving sidewalk” that touch the side of the sheep.  Behind the sheep is a shepherd (that would be Jesus) armed with his shepherd’s rod and staff.  Some observations that are worth mentioning would be that the sidewalk moves forward on it’s own.  I cannot make it go faster, slower, or stop.  At different times when I recall this image, the surroundings  are different, but often dark or shadowy, ominous for sure.  And I, the sheep, look back at the Shepherd, and He motions with His rod and staff for me to look forward, and then hits the railings on each side of me, reminding me of their strength.  I can neither jump off of this track, nor can anything touch me.   When I ponder this vision, I feel out of control, and concerned about what might be in the darkness or shadows, while at the same time, I am grateful to not be the one who has to operate and maneuver this thing.  I must simply ride it, rest on it.  I also think about the One who is with me, and who has been here before.  He is not worried.  He is there because He is my protector and comforter, I belong to Him, and He will not lose me to anything.

Our circumstances do sometimes shift and change unexpectedly, or maybe sometimes the situations seem to go and on in different shades of gray.  But we are all headed toward something.  These trials and tests are worth it.  He is showing us what it means to trust Him, to have His peace, and His rest . . . to eat the Living Bread and drink the Living Water.  These aren’t things that we make happen.  This is Christ, and we must only receive Him.  We rely on His strength and guidance, His wisdom, and His deep, deep love, and the magnificent fact that He will be glorified and we will see His Glory.