The rain came.
It fell in sweeping patterns, stretching across the sky in waves of gray-tinged white. It fell consistently, drumming upon the ground to match the rhythm of Earth's very heart.
It dwindled down homes, pooled into tiny, newly-formed lakes, and ebbed and gnawed at the soil relentlessly.
The day after the rain came, the earth on my little country road groaned and gave way. It collapsed, forfeiting its duty to uphold the weight of oncoming cars.
My road closed.
The closing of my road had and continues to have a slightly annoying effect on my life. Luckily, the road closed just below my house and "family land," so I am able to travel safely to and from my house. However, the mail runs incredibly late, the bus no longer brings my nephew home, and the future date of being able to travel my road again seems to be a mystery.
Here lately, I've found that my own life to be intertwined with the fate of my simple little road. I cannot help but think of my spiritual battles when I see the "Road Closed" sign every day - and where I should go next.
In an attempt to be intentionally vague, there's a burden heavy on my heart right now, and I do not have the answer to the dilemma that I desire. I feel like my road is closed.
This week, as I drove by that sign on my road, I felt shut down - I felt my access blocked. I do not, in my tiny state of being, begin to understand why God says no. I know that He can say yes - that He is capable of miracles - and yet He can choose not to perform them.
It is in these moments where I feel blockage - in this crux of crisis - where my faith meets action. I am not the first person who has stalled, the first person to wonder why, the first person to feel saddened by a no.
I know this because I have the stories of those God loved. In a pattern as meticulous as the rain, my God has painted the portraits of those who lived before me - and how they handled crises. They are my guideline.
Ruth has been my companion over the past few weeks. Throughout my Bible study, I've read consistently about how Ruth and Naomi went to their next destination while weeping.
They mourned, they were saddened - yet they kept moving.
And so it must be with me. I must find my way around this stop sign that I've conjured in my heart. I must find a way to keep going. I must not allow the burdens of this life to enslave me with their captive desires, for, as C.S. Lewis so profoundly put it, "there are far better things ahead than those we leave behind."
I may need a detour. I may need to claw and scrape my way out of the sinkhole created by the onslaught of rains. I may need to find a way to rebuild what is broken, but I must mourn and move. I must step out with faith and love, little by little, believing in the promises of God.
"Even when the rain falls,
Even when the flood starts rising/
Even when the storm comes,
I am washed by the water"