This last semester was one of those whirlwind seasons. I spent most of it rushing to soak everything in, all the conversations and meetings and readings and runs. I felt like I was floating, coasting through all the late night “Friends” marathons and donut runs, job applications and interviews and late night writing sessions, somehow finding the strength to keep pouring myself out in order to stay present. I’m thankful for this.
In-between job applications and spending last-minute moments with my friends and writing papers, I went to Bolivia. This trip just snuck up in my life, wedged between my seemingly never-ending to-do lists. I remember walking to the chapel at 1AM to meet my team after just turning in an assignment, not processing that I’d be stepping onto a plane the next morning and following the most rigorous travel schedule with some of the most amazing people, all still in disbelief that we were actually leaving.
I needed Bolivia. I needed the kids we played with, the nervous laughs that came with the language barrier, the ridiculous games, and the bi-lingual worship. I needed my teammates’ grace and the incredible love from the Monte Blanco staff. I needed to be reminded that we’re all bound together through Christ, not finding true relationship through what we can do or prove to each other, but rather through grace and love.
At the end of the week, we climbed a mountain through a cloud rainforest. We had heard about this hike the entire week, about how the view was incredible, filled with waterfalls and lush green landscape and rivers winding through the crevices. After a rainy day and being told it was too dangerous to go, things cleared up. We woke up early the next morning, climbed in the back of the trucks, and winded through the switchbacks until we hit the trailhead.
Climbing after an exhausting week in humidity and high elevation is always an experience and we were anxious to see the view from the top. But when we got there, we saw clouds.
And that’s about it.
Our view was blocked. We sat on the side of the mountain, waiting for the clouds to burn off. I found a spot away from the group, folded my knees to my chest and stared into the clouds, angry.
I hated not being able to see what was below. Hated it. My body tired, mind exhausted, and overall drained, I just wanted to see. I wanted to know what was in front of me, soak in the beauty and make the trek up worth it.
But that’s not what happened. And as I sat there, fuming in my exhausted anger, I realized it was ok not to see. It’s ok not to know, it’s ok to work hard to get somewhere and not have a clear vision because the Lord does. He’s going to lift the clouds, allow them to burn off when He needs them to. But right now, in the midst of graduation and transitions, labeled unknowns, and just plain unknowns, find peace in your blocked view because the Lord’s got you.