They were waiting for us. Everyone was assembled in front of the lake, which was in front of the mountain. Family, lake, mountain. All ready and waiting for us. We arrived at the lodge and texted my family that we were heading out to meet them for the family picture.
Greetings were exchanged. Balloons and photo props were passed around. Gnats were swatted. Poses were struck. Smiles. Eyes open. Moment captured. My parents’ 50th wedding anniversary was off to a great start.
We had enough time before our lunch reservation to walk around the lake, and so we set out. Everyone was chatting and catching up. So much to say! The teens even had enough energy to run ahead and then come back to the rest of us. So much to see! We snapped landscape pictures on our phones.
Then came the inevitable bug bite. I slapped at my neck and came away with the little bugger. Even as a lump swelled on my neck, I felt vindicated. He may have gotten me, but he wouldn’t bite anyone else ever again.
As we walked through the shaded portion of the lake, all we saw was the beauty. The trees hid us from the sun, and the breezes seemed to waft our cares away.
And oh, the conversation! I tried to convince one nephew of the merits of Phantom of the Opera, and my daughter explained her Etsy business plan to another cousin while my youngest nephew twirled his stick like a baton as he skipped along beside us. Another nephew scouted out the fishing possibilities while yet another one ran circles around us all, with his young legs and youthful exuberance.
In other words, life was good. But then we stepped out of the shade. Almost instantly, the sweat drops began to roll down our backs. Why hadn’t we noticed the sheer heat bearing down on us before? It felt like a different world. Where was the lodge? Were we any closer to it? Why was this leg of the short journey so much more arduous than the first?
The answer, of course, was that this particular lake is bathed in shade on one side and blasted with sunlight on the other. So there’s no in-between for adventurers around this lake. Either you’re filled with joy and promise and hope, enveloped in shade and caressed by breezes. Or you’re stumbling along, searing sun in your face, wiping sweat off your brow, and wondering why you ever thought this would be fun.
I’m being a bit dramatic, but that’s sometimes how a big change can make us feel. Lost. Confused. And really, very uncomfortable. We just want to find our way to the air-conditioned lodge, where we can rest enough to recover from that sudden, somewhat unexpected surge of heat.
And we want to be with our people, the ones who remind us of the good things in life. The teenagers who sing and play their guitars for their grandparents’ 50th anniversary. The son who brings old pictures to pass around and enjoy. The cherished memories children share in appreciation of the beautiful lives their parents have led.
That’s why I love Psalm 23:
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
These are encouraging words for us, no matter in what season of life we find ourselves. Currently, the sweet Pottery Barn Kids shelves that we bought when we were setting up our daughter’s playroom 17 years ago are sitting by the front door. They are waiting to travel to their new home, once someone on Craig’s List or Facebook Marketplace comes to get them.
We in this place are, as a Jane Austen hero once said, “half agony, half hope” as we watch them go. Those white candy-bin-style shelves have seen our girl from plush baby toys and board books to My Little Ponies, Strawberry Shortcake, Lalaloopsies, and Li’l Woodzeez. And on to Shopkins, Num Noms, Rainbow Loom kits, Squishmallows, and art supplies. They have grown up with her, and she with them.
And yet, it is time for a different shelving system, as well as a different season of life for our daughter and for us. Yes, they are only shelves. Mere objects. But they symbolize change, and change is not always easy. Sometimes it feels like coming out of the shade and into direct sunlight.
But we are promised in Psalm 23 that God’s goodness and love will follow us all the days of our lives. No matter what our season, and no matter our comfort level with it, God is with us. With Him as our Shepherd, we always have all we need. And nothing can separate us from His love.
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:35-39).
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