I sat up on a wooden platform. The way leading to it had been boarded up, but my curiosity impelled me to climb over it. There were old wooden stairs beaten down by past encounters with adventuring souls. Leaves were scattered here and there. Twigs and debris dusted the ledges. Though seemingly dead, all these things made me feel alive. Adventures are always ready to be had. And this small act, climbing up into an abandoned “treehouse,” was an adventure I hadn’t planned.
At the top, it felt easier to breathe, to feel, to see, and ultimately to just be. The view wasn’t what I expected. There were lots of trees draped above and around me, but I could still catch glimpses of the nearby river, its blues blending with the greens from the leaves. I took a moment there, holding the railing firmly with both hands and gently lifting myself up on my tip toes. God’s consistency was a sharp white that contrasted with every chaotic shade of grey and black that colored my heart. All the tension and anger that had built up between the Lord and I became obvious in that moment. In a long exhale, I thanked God for who He was. It seemed that was all I could do.
Having been asked to find a quiet place to journal and spend time alone with the Lord, I found myself up in this place with space to think. I opened my Bible. I didn’t feel ready to read, so I placed it back down beside me and opened my journal intending to write. There was this pressure that I couldn’t describe. It’s like when you want so badly to “have a moment” that you end up not being able to “have a moment.” I wanted to be struck with a revelation or intense joy in that space. But it didn’t happen. My heart was heavy.
So, I drew.
I don’t draw. Other than writing words or making cute flowers with designs, my skills are severely limited. Yet, that was all I could do in that moment. I gave it a try.
In front of me were thin, wooden beams holding up the ledge that overlooked the wooded area. They were lined up side by side like a fence. They made me feel closed in, not trapped, but relaxed and safe. I began to sketch the beams, my hand unsteady as it held the pen. Slowly, I added in the ledge, the planks beneath me, and the beginning of the stairs leading back down. Time kept me from adding any more detail than that. I packed up my things and stood up. It was then that I felt a sweet and refreshing lightness. A weight had been removed from my heart and placed on the pages of my journal. It was not intense. It was not even fully noticeable to me in that moment, but now, looking back, I know it happened. Somehow, the picture I had drawn had allowed me to process through emotions and thoughts without ever writing a word.
I continued to experience sweet and refreshing moments like that one the entire weekend that I was at Fall Getaway. The early morning and afternoon hikes: sweet. The conversations with old and new friends: sweet. The swaying of the hammock as I fell asleep: sweet. The water underneath, around, then above me as I jumped from a rock’s ledge into the rich blue water below: sweet. I am thankful that God knows what I need more than I do. He knew that I needed Fall Getaway.
On that wooden platform High up beneath the trees The weight of my own heart Felt heavier than me
A pen became my solace From ink to wooden, hands A moment that wasn’t a moment I felt I was able to have
It was on that pleasant morning I did nothing on my own to find A special way to release myself From a revolt going on inside
In sweet refreshment God had done it In such a way that I never knew Until later in my reminiscing My sketch took me back to the view -cel
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