A Place Prepared for Me

We head out to the Dog Agility trial in Virginia today, and all we have to do is make it over a huge mountain that looks out over a valley 3 miles below where a high wind advisory is in effect.

Here is what the Department of Transportation advises:

       While traveling north on 77, keep a firm grip on the steering wheel. Winds are clocked at speeds known to wrench vehicles from driver's control and carry them like cotton balls to the mountain edge where a precipice overlooks a 3 mile free-fall. For passenger safety, strap all passengers and small animals tightly in place. Be sure that all documents, especially wills and last testaments are current.

I have taken some liberty with the wording, but the message is exactly as conveyed in their more formal manner. Now I am not an alarmist, contrary to what my sisters will tell you. I am a realist. There is indeed a high wind advisory and it is indeed for the giant mountain on the border of NC and Va. which I never drive over with my eyes fully open. The blood to my fingertips pools as my knuckles blanch for the full 3 mile ride over the mountain. It is the only bad part of the trip, as long as no snow showers are forecast for the next hour leg of the journey which they actually are today.  Thus, I hope my diastolic/systolic pressure is on the low side this morning or we may have some issues.

Why do I do this, I ask myself? Why do I plan a trip in mid-winter over mountains known to carry snow and ice in their back pockets? And for what....so that a dog and a girl can go jump over some obstacles in new surroundings.....? This is insane. And yet, I am looking forward to it. There is a large part of me that is constantly restless, constantly yearning to explore, to see new sunsets, to look out over new vistas. This is the polar opposite of my post a few days ago about finding contentment at home. I am content at home, at least for a while,  but soon I yearn to wander.

Maybe it is because my roots are supposedly of a nomadic people. But actually, while the Jews are often depicted as nomadic, they were clearly not, and there is no historical or Biblical support that they were. They dug wells, farmed, and settled in cities. Nomads don't do that. They were forced to leave their homes countless times, but they were not anxious to do so. If anything their fierce clinging to Israel, their only homeland would demonstrate a people that desperately long to just be left alone at home.

Perhaps my wanderlust is due to something even deeper than my roots. Maybe it is reflective of the search for an eternal home, back where it all started, in the bosom of my Creator. Maybe that constant sense that I am not there yet is planted by a Father who thinks we might settle in a place we don't really belong. Just think of all the times in the Bible when Abraham, or Joseph, or Moses or Noah, or the Babel-builders tried to settle and dig roots so no one would budge them. Yet time and time again God told them , "Go! Scatter! Disperse! And while you are at it, sow seeds of Me that all might reap Joy in My Presence."

So with that in mind, I will brave the mountain. Perhaps someone is waiting for something that only our jumping dog and exuberant girl can provide. I guess we won't know til we get there.

Exodus 23:20
²⁰ “See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared.