Susan LaffertyWilderness. When the voice of the Beloved is silent. And the Word—so full of rivers and streams—feels like desert.
I remember thirst. And crying out. In a dark night of the soul. Longing for His instruction.
In the mornings, I waited. Asking.
Are You there? Can You hear me?
Maps torn at the creases. Unfolded and refolded over the years. Attempts to plot journeys.
Travels over land. Across the sea.
The flat paper world of continents and countries. Oceans and rivers. Cities. Mountains. Plains. Deserts.
Light-weight and world-at-a-glance.
Foldable. Disposable.
Unlike real-life-living in the marks on the map.
On a drive. After rain. Mist and fog still hang in the air. Limiting the view ahead.
But our eyes glance to the sides of the road. And we see. The beauty of timing.
Revealed. All along the way. Shining in the dark. Through woods, green and deep.
Dogwood in bloom.
