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Severely unprepared, I trudged through the fresh powder, seeing only one other brave soul who had given up and was heading back down. I gave him a friendly wave and he grinned. You know, the kind that clearly states he has zero confidence in you but also gives you the encouragement to push on just to prove him wrong. After spending nearly an entire day with my eyes on the North Star at the top of the mountain, I made it. I built a disfigured snowman with what little strength I had left and donated a precious article of warmth to make him more whimsical before heading back down the mountain.
The sunlight had finished its job, melting the snow just enough to allow my body to sink knee-deep, and was retreating quickly. In my prideful excitement, practically skipping down the mountain, I had become lost. Sunburnt and frozen-toed, I took one more step before collapsing into the slush to pray.
Seasons passed and I found myself creeping slowly through a maze of roads. I attempted yet another U-turn at the end of a narrow dirt road, cliff to the left and a steep wall of rock to the right. Another day of hiking with determination and passion to reach my goal had left me lost. At the time I considered it a luxury to be lost in the comfort of a car, but as the needle moved closer and closer to "Empty" and the hours ticked by, my hopes diminished and panic set in. Cold and hungry, I stopped the car and prayed.
God fueled a passion and set a goal that was much bigger than the adrenaline rush of a breathtaking view and sore muscles. I approached it like any other challenge, set my focus on the goal and hit the ground running toward the grand adventure of parenthood. Two years into being a mom I became so focused on diaper explosions, tantrums in the grocery store parking lot, and my toddlers asking "Why?" every five seconds, that when I finally looked up I realized I was defeated. I felt the familiar pain, hopelessness and confusion of being lost.
Psalm 121 has become a reminder of where my help comes from. I am the lost hiker, eyes scanning the mountains for something familiar, something I know has been there for ages and will faithfully show me the way home. I sit sobbing in desperation for the almighty, unchanging, faithful, never-failing God to provide help.
The same God who made the heavens, the earth and those mountains that guide us home is the God who is with me. Why do I wait until I’m lost to call out?
Note to self: Buy a satellite phone with GPS for all future adventures.