HIS LOVINGKINDNESS, MY HOPE

For Jonathan and I, Covid has been the season of hikes.  Starting out with walks in the neighborhood, as the pandemic drags on and temperatures soar, my quest intensifies to find new shady hikes and country roads to explore. The rolling hills of northern Virginia are full of them.  Soon our outings are the highlight of our day.  After breakfast, Jonathan tugs on my arm, pulling me across the front deck to the van.   Settling into his seat, that irresistible crooked grin spreads across his face--another adventure!  He loves drives--classical music blaring loudly, face glued to the window.  

Spiritually it’s been a season of highs and lows. At times the days stretch out endlessly, the weight of them crushing, numbing.  Other days, I  breathe in the woodsy smells, drink in the deep blue skies, the lush green, and I’m refreshed. Or swell with grateful pride as I watch Jonathan’s sturdy legs march him down a three mile path.

One of those grayer mornings, though, I read this Psalm - May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you. (Ps 33:22)   I wonder, “What does it actually look like to put my hope in the Lord?”  Jonathan and I head out to Conway Robinson State Forest, one of our favorite hikes.  I love the dappled sunlight through tall oaks and pines, the narrow raised part of the path where Jonathan strides so confidently by himself.  It’s been raining hard for the past week, but I know that even if it’s messy, the hike will be worth it. As we trundle along, we are greeted by large puddles four inches deep in gooey muck.  Back to the spring floods!  With each new mud challenge, I  scope it out, leaning my weight on Jonathan to keep him on the dryer side of the path. Or lead him around through underbrush when the path ceases to exist. A few times I slip and slosh mud all over my nice tennis shoes, splattering my ankles and calves, but for the most part Jonathan avoids the biggest quagmires.   I chatter, “Here we go, Jonathan! Good job getting around that big puddle! Mommy’s proud of you! Isn’t it pretty out here?!” I’m genuinely happy.  Because I know this path.  It’s just so gorgeous.

I’m no super Mom.   I grumble at times.  I could do more. But it strikes me - if I, flawed as I am, find this much joy guiding Jonathan through that muddy path, knowing that the reward of beauty and just being together is worth it, how much more does my loving God guide and carry me through the messiness of my life? Why? Because he knows that there is beauty to be experienced, and He will not let me miss it.  The more I contemplate God’s lovingkindness, how often he spares me the worst of the mud just as Jonathan was oblivious to the mess I help him avoid, how he sees the ultimate good that will come of this slippery path I struggle down, I begin to understand the link between God’s love and my hope.  It is in the knowledge of God’s lovingkindness that I can put my hope in Him. In the security of being watched over and cared for that my hope finds a home. He has laid a foundation of trust upon which my hope and faith rest secure.  Just as Jonathan waits for me on the path, just as he takes my hand in simple trust that never fails to thrill my heart and fill my soul, I can wait on the Lord. I can hope. I can put my hand in His.