January 1: Journey

Another quieting fog has descended upon my misty brae this first day of 2013. It’s a fitting backdrop, really, for these types of musings. My day is quiet because I choose for it to be. And because the drifting fog muffles every noise so that even hollering goats are shushed into pensive cud-chewing.

When I began to think about 2013 a couple of days ago, I got out some paper and began to write words. Single words. I was looking for a signpost . . . a theme . . . to define the tenor of my heart as this new year’s journey unfolded. I perused Facebook to see what other people where posting. I Googled a few things. I opened my Bible and re-read Psalm 107 . . . the cornerstone scripture for our East Tennessee farm. I prayed. But nothing “real” came to mind.

Nothing fit.

Nothing seemed “right.”
So I took out a fresh piece of paper, uncapped my pen, and wrote this:

 

Nothing.

An empty sheet of paper with an uncapped pen.
Waiting for inspiration.

 And that fit.

It was “right.”

I will not be spending 2013 fighting invisible specters of resolutions and declarations. I don’t need a fresh vision or a renewed annointing to walk this new path. There will be no thematic prophecies leading me into miraculous sunsets.

I will simply be journeying.

I will start each day clean and fresh because of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.
I will walk freely because He has broken every bond . . . and I choose to throw them aside.
I will stride expectantly because that is the true nature of journeying.
And I will wait.

It’s not the kind of waiting that stops life from happening.

It’s the kind of waiting that shushes your soul from meaningless chatter and transforms walking into listening.

And God will write.

. . . from His Word
. . . from His Heart
. . . from the very depths of Love itself.
He will give direction and craft signposts and speak whisperings that emanate from eternity.

It’s a bold journey.

A courageous leap of faith.
An open-ended invitation for the Maker of the Universe to embark with me on a very intimate adventure.

So it’s time to don my coveralls, slip on my muckers, trek up to the barn, and see if any heifers are in labor.

Astounding, isn’t it, how the most amazing journey can begin by simply putting on your boots . . .

and taking God’s Hand?