Believe

…in fresh starts and new beginnings

It was Easter weekend. Fragrant bluebonnets lined the wide road as I drove several, long leisurely hours from Austin to Inks Lake, near Burnet, Texas, looking forward to a solitary weekend in the woods. I frequently took annual trips like this, to be alone, enjoying the great Live Oaks, peaceful lakes, visits by friendly deer, and long walks, where the calming atmosphere  of the surrounding grassy meadows  fell on my shoulders like a comforting hug.

                                                                                              

When I arrived, conversations of families drifted near, with small kids throwing frisbees, guys grilling good smelling burgers and BBQ, , and women in lively conversations as I got settled in my screened-in shelter. I laid a down sleeping bag on the small cot inside, took my acoustic guitar out of its case, and laid my mystery novels and writing journals on the wooden picnic table, next to my green camp stove and styrofoam ice chest, and unfolded my blue canvas chair.

      Enjoying a cup of coffee, I surveyed my surroundings with satisfaction. I had brought a small Celtic harp that stood in the corner, ready to be strummed, and my friend Dan had given me a CD of his favorite instrumental play list I looked forward to listening to.  

It was a great time,  although most of the people who were here when I arrived, had packed up to go home . Now I was virtually alone, except for a kindly Camp Ranger who stopped by to tell me to stay inland, as a storm was brewing.

The rain poured down that afternoon and, I played Dan’s CD, which had a cacophony of rhythmic sounds and instrumental music that well matched the storm. I wrote long entries in my journal, read favorite novels, fixed croissant and cheese sandwiches, and watched the sun go down behind the lake. In the evening, I  slept well, saying goodnight to t

he stars outside the screened windows, feeling safe and secure in the world of the spirit.

In the morning, I sat outside on a quilted blanket, and played my small harp, and sang songs to God. The fresh atmosphere after the rain felt like such a new beginning, and the song of early Spring was in the air.

  I thought of all I had to surrender, to let go of, to give to God so I could be free of worry or fear. My past, not always pleasant, having experienced the effects of alcoholism in my home  as a child, and my future, unknown, but full of desperate hopes and dreams and unresolved feelings over my son, who I had not seen in years. This was the most difficult hurdle. It was hard to let go of the inner struggle that came down to one thing: Is God good? Can I trust him with this most important matter in my life? How can I live knowing Shawn was out there somewhere, perhaps in trouble, and does he need me? Why can’t I find him? Why is he gone? It was hard, day after day, year after year, birthday after birthday, not to wonder and to yearn. Yet, there was a part of me that believed, that God is good, and that if a broken heart was part of a grander plan, then I must give him permission to break mine, and one day, perhaps, I will know why.

So, on that Easter morning, I looked up to the heavens with hope, love and serenity, believing in the loving hand of God, the mystery of life, and the beauty of Grace I had received along the way.I found gratitude as I said a final prayer.

  The power of the storm, the quiet of the moment, the vastness of the land around me, the peace in my heart, made it a perfect retreat.

God’s purpose, was indeed fulfilled, in a most incredible and unpredictable way. The broken heart healed. The long awaited phone call came. The years the locust had eaten had been repaid, tenfold.

It does not escape me, that the happened on Easter weekend, a time of hope and renewal, when that dark place inside me wanted to die, but the light came, with its divine surprise. A second chance presented itself, and my sacrifice and suffering did not go unnoticed.  I’m glad I did not abandon my self to darkness or and despair, but persevered through the trials that brought me a greater reward in the end.

God revealed to me the why behind His will, and in time,  clarity came. Yet,grateful as I am to have my son back in my life now, the real gift was the journey I had gone through, trusting God day by day, becoming the kind of person God wanted me to be, and how it shaped me to be ready for all that was yet to come.

So, embrace the renewal of life! There’s no struggle in Surrender. There is a greater good, a greater plan, and a reason to believe.