Learning from the Leaves

I’m hammocking along Beaver River with a girl who has quickly worked her way into my life and become one of my closest friends. And as we silently sway five feet away from each other lost in our own thoughts and as I watch these leaves and twigs and branches float down the river and as I talk to God about all the jumbled up nonsense floating around my teenage head He started talking back. Praise Him for that.

So here's how the convo went down.

I'm watching these leaves and twigs all dash down the river as they sail away and it's surprising how fast they all go from here. It didn’t seem so fast looking down on them but right next to the water they come and go with the utmost purpose. Except for some. Some get pulled into the bank or snag on an unseen limb that snatches it up from below. The soggy leaves stutter to a stop and pull away from their leaf-napper but find themselves firmly gripped in the clutches of Grendel’s mother. (Beowulf reference for my fellow book nerds.)

So as I rock dangled between two trees praying I don’t fall in, I tell God about these leaves. These leaves have a destination. And if not a destination a direction. And if no real direction well at least they’re still going. Sure they drift aimlessly but dang look at them go! Those leaves have more ambition than I do! I look at those leaves and see my friends and peers, with majors and goals and relationships and hopes and dreams and a feeling of purpose. Maybe they are misdirected. Maybe God will have to nudge them one way or another or force them to turn around altogether. But how nice it must feel to just RUN.

And then I look at those other leaves. The ones who get stuck and though they throw their whole force into flying away they can’t move. They are just leaves in a current after all. But I feel like those leaves. Powerless. Frozen. Stuck. As an undeclared freshman about to finish my first semester of college, this is nothing new. And as an undeclared freshman who has no idea what to do, I have heard countless times that I will find my passion and that this is just a time to wait for God.

So I know that. And I believe that. Really.

But then I look down and I see hundreds and hundreds of water logged leaves matting the bottom of this river bank and decaying and turning into the sloppy mud that now coats my shoes. And part of me thinks that's where I'll end up.

What if I’m left in this time of waiting?

What if I never find it, whatever "it" is?

What if I drop out of school so hopeless and disillusioned and discouraged that I give up?

Or worse what if I graduate from this school with a major I picked at random and accept the first job I’m offered and marry the first guy I kiss and have two kids and a picket fence house in western Pennsylvania and die quietly at 80 in my sleep? Now granted that’s a bit of a rabbit hole I’ve led you down, sure. But I’m dramatic and I’m a worrier.

And you know what God said? (He’s been saying it for awhile to be honest, but I really, really don't like to hear it.)

He told me to have faith. Not that I wouldn’t become a leaf wedged into the mud on the ground. He said that I might. And that that’s how it is. And if I love Him, I have faith that even as a leaf stuck on the bank watching others move on by, He is doing a good thing. A life sold out for Him doesn’t mean traveling into Mozambique and rescuing children from temple sacrifices or human trafficking. A life sold out for Him is a life surrendered to Him. So right now I’m learning to surrender with the faith that this is exactly where He wants me to be, at least for right now. And I’m not gonna lie I don’t always love the idea of that. But I do love Him. And He is good and His plan is good and I will proclaim His goodness wherever I am even in these muddy banks. So right now? I'll wait and watch and make my peace by the riverside with faith that the King of my soul knows what He’s doing.