Growing up on the East Coast, the trails I followed were reasonably clear: dirt in the middle of green. Green grasses, green leafy plants (like trillium, so lush)…even under trees there was still green, and the trail was where the green didn’t grow.
People make wider trails than critters, which is spare guidance for getting back to where you started rather than to a deer’s nest.
I came to Texas as a new adult. Visited this spot where I sit, in fact, just a few months into my Texas odyssey. Discovered that my trail-reading skills needed an upgrade–
These Hill Country trails are rocky. Which is no big deal…
except that the countryside is the same kind of rocky.
Dirt wears away on its own, making winding creeks of stones.
Trees are mostly short, bushes get pretty tall…
and now you see the “trail” you just followed is only a ridgeline. Or the fastest path for water in a downpour.
Oh, and these bushes grow quickly, so you’ll be whipped in the face on the groomed trails, too.
Dang, it is so much easier to get lost here in the Hill Country.
I started walking through my life in faith, in a new way, a year and a half ago.
I’m listening for God in a more pervasive way, and–more challenging for me–stepping into whatever work God sets in front of me.
Last year’s work? That assignment was clear–whether an unrolled carpet or an open manhole, I still don’t know. But I did it until it stopped.
I’m walking on a flow of stones.
It could be a trail-?