Tufts of cacti and brown grass, thorny bushes, jagged dry earth below a sprawling blue sky. Western Colorado roads that seem to snake endlessly ahead of us and make me think that time has slowed here for centuries just like it does for us today. We just a business meeting and lunch and have now settled into the car to drive quietly, wistfully, on what will be our last week in Colorado.
34 days till our departure for India.
At T- 40 days we felt led to fast something until our departure. Tyler chose sweets and I- against my better judgement- chose coffee. Not the occasional frou-frou coffeeshop drink with a friend (because one cannot forfeit such a nostalgic habit before leaving the country for three years), but my many morning cups of joe. 4 days in and a dull headache reminds me how much I miss those cups of coffee and how tea is a very poor substitute! I am also reminded that God is preparing my heart and mind for the journey that lies ahead.
All of the unknowns and all of the joy that comes (truly) from surrender to so much that I cannot control.
Driving among the dried up hills I try to picture the rugged trails and the rugged faces we will meet in our new home. A long flight that lands in nighttime summer heat. Bustling taxis and luggage-wallas and over-populated intensity. Then an overnight train into the mountains. More clatter and negotiating on an early morning station platform. Then a taxi drive up switch-back roads (that have the most seasoned mountain-dwellers hanging sick out the window) to our final destination.
I’m so anxious to see where our “flat” will be located, if we’ll have a view of the valley, what our neighbors will be like.
I feel very human and finite as my fingers fidget and I imagine all of the unknowns. If transition were the Loveland Pass, we would be winding up and around to the peak of it, just as we’re doing today. When your engine’s pushing to get to the crest, you’re also preparing for the moment when you peak the top (and in today’s case we emerge from the Eisenhower tunnel, suddenly on the eastern side of the continental divide) and suddenly, you’re in a brand new place and now you’re shifting down and you’re coasting to your destination. You’re coasting and you’re hoping that you packed the right stuff and you took a bathroom break when there was a chance and you’re anticipating what the next stop will be like, but at this point, there’s no going back. There’s no going back up and over that tall mountain you’ve just put your everything into coming over. It’s downhill for a while now.
So that’s what this spot feels like. Gearing up before we crest the top and then coast down to “taste and see that The Lord is good” in all that we do not yet know.
We’re packing thermals and socks. Making lists. Taking long drives for final goodbyes. Deferring coffee to prepare my heart for the unknowns…for unforeseen potholes and hard days, along with new encounters and discoveries and growth deep deep within us. And most of all the joy that comes with surrendering to a God we can trust.