Driving northwesterly as we crossed the state line, the landscape changed within a few miles. We drove upwards, passing signs pointing out “chain up areas” and indicating “snow zones.” Though we encountered no snow on this second day of September, we could see snow caps in the distance.
As we navigated tight turns tears formed, my gut wanted to sob in relief. The tears, gifts of the Holy Spirit, came upon me. After over a year of preparation, after naysayers who are skeptical of “Holy Spirit moments” that change lives, and after over 2300 miles we were nearing our destination. (It would be one more day before we make it to our destination.)
The joy, the anxiety, and, yes, the fears subsided, at least for a time, in a sense of calm peace. This was the same calm I have felt each time I have visited Portland during the last 14-months. It is the calming touch of the divine. The calm that says, this is where you are called. Stopping at the first rest area, I slipped off my flip flops and dug my toes into the sod. I felt the Ground with my bare feet and prayed, seeking to open myself to the One.
Nope, I don’t get it either. I’m not sure what it will look like. I just keep following as the Spirit simultaneously walks with me and dances ahead of me luring me onward.
Trustworthy and Ever-Creating One,
Thank you for the gift of hope.
Thank you for molding me to your purposes.
Help me to continue to trust you when,
roadblocks, naysayers, and challenges seem insurmountable.
Help me to be flexible and pliable as you give me glimpses,
of where this leads and,
of your unfolding Realm.