We bundled up in several layers of clothing, strapped on the heavy, awkward helmets, straddled the seats of the four wheelers and rode into the trails of the Colorado mountains. My previous experiences four wheeling had been roaming through acres of woods, mud pits or sand dunes. I had yet to adventure through mountains on an ATV. For three hours and a little over forty miles, we inhaled the remarkable scenery with our eyes. We saw deer, deserted campsites, snow, fellow travelers, beautiful lunch spots and breathtaking panoramic views. For the first ten miles, my son and I rode as my dad drove, following our veteran friends who lead the adventure.
At one point, the climb steepened and my son turned his head so that I could hear his words through his bulky helmet, “Put your arm around me, Momma.” Risks are not much, Caden’s forte. I was proud of him for even riding along. I knew the whole time, he was most likely self-soothing through internal dialogue, yet, all the while, attempting to let himself experience the views and the joy of the ride. I wrapped my right arm around him, tight enough that he could feel the pressure of me pulling him close and I felt his body begin to relax. We rode that way for a chunk of the time, yet once the terrain flattened out a bit, he released my arm to his right side and his fingers held mine until we stopped to switch passengers.
During that leg of the journey, holding my son close, my view vacillated between straight ahead and the panoramic. I thought about how this experience paralleled my walk with Jesus. I find myself in the throw of navigating a tumultuous path, focusing on the landscape directly ahead of me, allowing myself to become consumed by the fear of what I can see. I give into anxious thoughts, feeling my body being jostled by the ride. Yet, what Jesus asks of me is that I would cry out to Him to put His arms around me. When He pulls me close, He yearns for me to lean into His competent, faithful care and trust that He sees a view far more spectacular than the one unfolding within my immediate sight.
Amber, take your gaze off of the heartbreak, mundane, and uncertainty. Just as I promised in Psalm 91:4, allow me to cover you with my feathers. Under my wings is where you will find refuge. My faithfulness will be your protective shield.
When your view is daunt, trust me, the view of where this travel will take you is spectacular.