Years ago, I was going through difficulties of my own making. What they were does not matter at this point, only the road I chose to leave them behind does.
From the house in which I lived, I would walk down the drive and head south on Whitley Road. The way was open and you could see the top of the hill a half mile or so away. There were pine woods and fields on both sides of the road.
I made this daily trek for several months while carrying a walking stick. I didn't need the stick to walk. I needed it for the little ankle biters that lived a street over. I never had to whack one of the dogs, but I did have to wave the stick at them every day.
I started off being bitter and was just walking to clear my head but it did no real good.
At some point I started talking to myself on these trips. Then I started talking to God.
I wasn't praying. I was talking. And walking.
I found that God was indeed there walking with me, listening to me vent, giving me solace. Occasionally I would say something and immediately feel the burn of a reprimand.
These were painful times, but the walks were incredible. They became longer not because I was walking farther, but because I was taking my time. I looked off into the woods and swamp. I watched the squirrels. I listened to the birds.
I found a blackberry stand that I had never noticed before.
My heart began to swell and I would sing as I walked and God was still there with me.
I was filled with Peace. The darkness and bitterness were gone.
I have since left that area and no longer take those walks. I should.
I know that God is still there waiting for me to ask him to take a walk with me.
As much as I loved them, I know that He loves them more.
I still talk to God more than I pray, but I miss the walks.
Image by Joshua Choate on Pixabay.
