Today I drove to the swamp and sat there, in the car, wondering what my next move would be. There are so many possibilities. The possibilities could be paralyzing, but I’ve chosen to CHOOSE one and go with it.
If it doesn’t work (but it will) then I will choose another possibility.
So after I thought about what I wanted to do, what my next move would be, I thought to myself…”What is the one thing I don’t know that it would help me to know right now?” I sat there for awhile, not knowing, and thinking that God wasn’t going to answer this question. I mean, I didn’t know what I didn’t know, so how was I going to get an answer?
I got quiet, waiting for the voices. But the swamp was silent. Smooth. Still. It was a still-life painting, un-romanticized and brown. There were no voices. I thought about how different this swamp looked the first time I ran to it.
On that day, the water was almost overflowing the banks. There were swirls and eddies, fish jumping and forest noises. The swamp flowed that day, life exploded. But today, there was nothing but quiet. I thought about how much the swamp had changed and how it may be different the next time I visited. Mossy green and stagnant?
But then I realized that it didn’t matter how the swamp would be different next time – it would be what I needed it to be. It would change. It would change into what I needed it to be.
And so will I.