Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.
– Proverbs 3:3 (NIV)
My feet take me places with no destination in mind. The air is crisp and the sky blue. The buildings of downtown jut from the ground into that blue sky, sunlight reflecting off of the windows. People are everywhere—at the square, protesting down the street, playing in the snow, laughing with someone they love, and here I am just walking with no destination in mind. I’m just walking because I have forty-five minutes to waste before I return to work.
I take the muddy way to the market. Granite Creek runs clear over the road, splashing into the creek bed and runs around gentle bends towards the park. I turn right and follow the muddy path with its left over splotches of snow and icy footprints of dogs and humans into the trees away from the busyness. The prints are just traces gone by, like this day.
There are days I hurry the minutes on the clock, eager for it to end, and days I pray that never end. It’s good that God doesn’t answer every prayer. Imagine the confusion as God hears me contradict myself. Does she, or doesn’t she want this day? That’s what He would whisper.
Muddy paths have always been my way. I don’t know any other way. I always take the road I want to take, disregarding the sloppy mud and twisted roots. Following God is my way, and sometimes those paths are quite muddied. They are quite well-worn from foot traffic of others who have gone down this road before me. They who have stumbled over the roots, slipped on the mud, and who have grasped for the hand of the Lord to pick them up. You can see their work in the bridges they have built.
I have built bridges and burned them down. I have been brave and cowardly. I have followed God even when others do not see why I chose this path, but I did choose it. This muddy path I take is hard, but I am building endurance and the scenery is beautiful. I stop and take some photos. My camera captures beauty with an amateur hand. You won’t find Ann Voskamp or Gail McNeeley or even Emily over at “Chatting at The Sky,” in my photos. You will find, however, love. Love of the mud, of the leaves that brown, and the snow that doesn’t melt in the shade. On this crisp, cold day, I walk hand-in-hand with God.
Describe your moments with God.
By Nikole Hahn, Nikki’s Journal