There’s a place near my home that everyone calls “The River.” I’ve been to this place so many times over my life. What’s funny is that it’s not literally a river – it’s a trail – and a portion of it happens to be by a river.
I can almost define the stages of my life by that trail. I remember running with an old college friend – telling her all about Eric and his mom’s cancer, how brave and strong he was to care for her – thinking the whole time how thankful I was …to be the girl he had chosen to love. And I remember running at the river by myself after Eric’s mom died – wrestling and hoping… And then later my hope was realized – and we were married.
I remember mountain biking on the smaller trails with Eric and standing with my bike at the bottom of a hill, watching, amazed – at how easily Eric could climb the hill with his bike. And then I would go – and struggle – and end up walking my bike to the top. And then we would attack the rest of the trail together.
I remember walking by the river with a jogger stroller – Canon in tow – thinking, it’s hard to run by myself. I need a friend. And years have past, and God has given me many friends.
Which brings me to this morning. A group of moms from Canon and Kate’s school run on Tuesday mornings. So after carpool, I found myself in a Suburban with three other moms and their toddlers. I had no idea where we were going. But I wasn’t all too surprised where we ended up… the river. And so we ran… and talked (and I struggled to keep the pace) and I thought… life is so… the same. In every phase, I’ve struggled and wrestled and looked to God for answers. My companions have been different – but the river is the same. It meanders and bubbles and people run past it day after day, year after year. And so it is with God. He never changes. He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. My alpha and omega, my beginning and end.
I hope my body is able to run at the river for many more years. I look forward to the wrestling… and to the hoping.