Streams of Gold
Jonathan and I round the curve on Skyline Drive. There, high atop the Shenandoah Valley, through branches once clothed in verdant luxury, light like liquid gold pours, so that shafts suspend themselves in every open space like so much glitter thrown to the wind. Trunks ordinarily gray seem lit from within. They shimmer silver, their rough bark edges gilded in transcendent, gleaming glory, a benediction on our impromptu trip.
I’d considered turning around. Already a gray day, the mountains ahead were draped in clouds sure to obscure the usually spectacular views. Yet ascending the winding road to the park entrance, I caught a glimpse of bright blue through wispy clouds, finally bursting into brilliant sunlight and the last of the fall color. A storybook trail fringed by evergreen mountain laurel lured us over rushing streams. And when I ordered a snack at the door to the lodge, Jonathan sat quietly in his chair on the lawn--quite an accomplishment for this young man!
This has been a time of uncertainty for so many. For us, with high school graduation looming, much planning has gone into preparing for Jonathan’s future. A future fraught with the unforeseeable. Even with our most diligent planning, we know there will be contingencies we cannot anticipate. Bone weary and faced with a fresh realization of the long term challenges we face, sometimes I’ve felt like I was looking into a long tunnel darkened by increasing loneliness and isolation. Until at the end there is no light at all. Yet this afternoon has stood up to my worry laden projections, and cried, “False!” I took a risk motivated by love and encountered wonder. Why do I assume that that which I cannot control is a cause for fear and dread, rather than the beauty and comfort I’ve experienced thus far at God’s hand?
I was reminded of that afternoon of unexpected beauty on the ridge while hiking down in the valley a few weeks later, where under Autumn’s late afternoon beams, the tired reds and oranges of half-clad trees transformed to a brilliant crimson and glowing amber. Bathed in this ethereal radiance, I want to believe. To trust. Perhaps, a quiet, insistent thought occurs to me, perhaps, like dying leaves make way for light to permeate, I too need to let go of this need for absolute security.
God, who transcends and permeates creation with His presence, reminds me what light does. It lights my path. The path I’m on right now. The path I will be on 5 years from now. My path when the grocery store manager put all my food on another cart and the checkout guy walked the cart to the van because Jonathan had had enough of Walmart. The path that overflows with love, and better understands trust when Jonathan puts his hand in mine. The road one quarter of a mile from the parked van when Jonathan sits down seemingly to walk no more...in the strength God gives me to push up that last hill.
God’s creation shouts glory in golden light, weeps with dripping rain, splashes in puddles of abandonment, beckons from around the bend, “come my beloved.’ He soothes in the colors of the sunset, freshens with the buds of spring time, comforts in the sylvan glade. He is everywhere whispering, “I am with you.”
When I feel weary or discouraged, I will close my eyes and picture that golden streaming light. And remember. Painted on the canvas of creation, reminders of God’s faithfulness.