Saturday, June 14, 2014

The refreshing fog is of His hand as well.

Nor grumble, as some of them did and were destroyed by the Destroyer. 1 Corinthians 10

Because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the Way.
Luke 1:79

Jehova hace a los vientos sus mensajeros, y a las flamas de fuego sus ministros. Salmos 104,4

Y siendo arrebatado la nave, y no pudiendo poner proa al viento, nos abandonamos a el, y nos dejamos llevar. Hechos 27, 15

?Sopla el viento en contra nuestra o hacen cortapisas en nuestro Camino? A veces Dios nos pone obstaculos para mostrarnos un mejor Camino, un Camino de bendicion que nos lleva a El.

Yikes.

Yesterday we crossed the halfway point of our Camino, as well as multiple mountains, again and again, the rhythm of patient overcoming up, and the delight of sweeping down through speckled light drifting through ancient trees, or past rolling vineyards or overlooking sparkling beaches. Yesterday was the Northern California costal day.

And when we limped into Santa Marina last night, everyone was impressed and shook their heads with wonder that we had made it from Ovieda, and they didn't even know the half of it, all the yellow arrow paths we took, winding hither and thither along cow paths for two hours to come out only 2 km further along in our journey. And two flat tires. I hope this destroyed ship is not my bicycle, which has overall proven very faithful, but, well, we've had some bang-ups as well.

But it doesn't matter, really, because He is faithful through the winds and the flames. And I have committed to follow Him. No matter what the cost. Which is a scary thing to say, as I have lived and learned in the past.

And today may my eyes be fixed on Jesus, and not distracted by the waves.

Last night, I was a little teary, walking that old flat-tired bike up the last steep hill: Dear Lord God Almighty, be my provision.

And I rounded the bend, and Nicole was chatting with an old guy by the side of the road, Enrique. And later she told me that God told her to stop, that he was our angel. And he started the conversation, "You must stay in Santa Maria." And we did.

We are alone in this massive silent pension, in sharp contrast to the minimalist stop last night, quietly slipping into a dark room of sleeping bodies. Across the street we were served and served food and drink: a bottle of water, a bottle of wine, a tuna and apple and fake crab meat salad, fried ham slices, mounds of salty French fries, and chocolate torte, and we ate it all, after nice hot showers, and went to bed.

And we are planning an early start, with our breakfast already to carry with us, but it is still dark outside, the fog has rolled in again.

Dear Lord, I lay this day before You. Carry us through, sheltered in Your wings, through wind and fire, I trust You. A road of blessing, because You are the One who carries us.