I come to Oak Mountain State Park chasing solitude. Due to the pandemic, it’s crowded and a lone spot by the water is impossible to find.
It’s been since March 12, 2020 since the world shut around here. I don’t honestly know when was the last time I’ve been alone (since I homeschool too!).
I thrive on solitude. It’s hard to find a spacious place in the park in which to sit and think about all the things, but somehow I do.
2020 has not been a year for the faint of heart. Every now and then, I find myself restless and craving solace in solitude and quiet.
I find a quiet table where it’s just me, the tuffed titmouses squeaking, a gentle breeze, as bikers do wheelies up the incline beside me, and families walk their dogs.
The pines and spindly oaks provide adequate shade for me to sit a spell.
I turn on Amazon music and my soul, so anxious with grief, stills. Tears well up as I think about black parents teaching their children how to be safe around the police. My mind wanders from the world’s problems to my problems and back again.
I stare at the cars and the trees, graze at the hill before me, and wonder, “What is the world I live in?”
I’ve come to meet with God, to set aside the pandemic and racism, and the weight of the world, but before I do, they all crowd my thoughts anyway.
I’m surprised to be able to write and journal. Writing helps me to know who I am and what I am thinking when my soul feels crowded and a little bit heavy. Writing helps me to feel like I am myself again, when it seems like I have gone missing, which is exactly how I’ve felt as late.
I sing a few notes of praise as I ponder. Then I quiet the music to listen to the internal monologue inside. I have questions and concerns to bring to God that are my own.
I ask the questions, and I share the burdens, a few which are decades old. No answers yet, only comfort from my Bible study and the Word of God. He is here with me.
“Take heart, Daughter, healing is for you, hope is for you, I am for you,” He seems to gently say.
My soul is reminded of what is true. He is with me. Jesus sees all of me and loves all of me, even the parts that still need sanctifying.
He is at work and shows up right on time, despite years of waiting. This I know. I don’t know when or how, but I know He does. It soothes my soul knowing that He is still working, even though I cannot necessarily see it.
In chasing solitude, I’ve come to sit before the Lord and quiet my heart and soul. What a great exchange, my weariness for His rest and comfort.
Before I leave, I sense He wants me, perhaps invites me, to climb the hill before me. My heart is open and curious. What do you want to teach me as I climb, sweet Savior?
I wonder what will He say and what will I see.
At the top of the hill, there is a picnic table just like the one I’ve come from below where I’ve communed with God. I was unable to see it below which piques my curiosity. God reminds me that the mountaintops are meant to show me which way to go when I’m lost in the valley’s short-sighted wildernesses. He says that everywhere I go, there are altars there. It’s between Him and me to build sacred altars to remember His goodness and faithfulness.
I’m glad.
I didn’t leave with all the answers. But I found a few, and left with less questions and more peace. In chasing solitude, I found Home in Him.
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