Each step elicits a crunch as my feet steady the slightly shifting gravel under my sneakers. Each step on this wooded, gravel path across from our home. Like opening an old perfume bottle, spring and summer walks usher in the memories of my college summers at Kanakuk, walking and running on those gravel paths snaking throughout K2. What sweetness from God that I get to literally walk down this memory lane practically daily, now thinking of Hud and Basden who are right this minute running around the exact same property that I ran around during those summers decades ago.
We are not “lifers” in the Kanakuk world, but each of our children have attended as campers and served during their college years (Essie bringing up the rear, and if I were a betting person I’d go with 4/4). We refer to Kanakuk as “the gift that just keeps giving” – a foundation of meaningful summer experiences, and even more so the continuation of those friendships in the years that follow.
As my feet hit this gravel trail, I hear that familiar crunch and yet the Lord keeps turning my eyes and heart to new things. I love that line in Waymaker, “Even when I don’t see it he’s working, even when I don’t feel it He’s working… He never stops, he never stops working.” And I love the first few words of this Isaiah verse, “Look and see!”
Each of us need a new thing. Every single day. A new brush with the Lord and his Word. A new comfort from the Holy Spirit. New direction. New clarity. New encouragement, for goodness’ sake.
But how lovely when the new is mixed in with the familiar.
How lovely to feel the thread of core memories meshing with new experiences: Bran beginning his career in Dallas, but rubbing elbows with our friends from Baylor, TCU, and Kanakuk days; Hud and Basden currently at K2, working alongside fellow staff whose parents we knew from Kanakuk and college, and even today they are heralding in the first batch of 2023 kampers under the same joyful, life-giving K2 director I worked with; Essie’s K2 bestie is the daughter of my Baylor roommate, whose dad also served at K2 with me.
I know it was a hard decision for Hudson to choose Kanakuk over medical internships this summer. Well, actually I don’t think it was hard at all. As someone just said to me last week, “Don’t let college get in the way of your camp education.” Basden wasn’t totally sure of her decision, especially when she was placed with high school students this summer instead of the littles, but the texts we’re receiving communicate 1 – how much she loves all the people, and 2 – she doesn’t ever want to leave.
I know the kids are learning a ton. I know they’re being stretched. I know they’re laughing, like belly-laughing, and at the same time are facing some real challenges. Bran navigating grown-up life in Dallas, Hud and Basden at Kamp with responsibilities amidst the adventure, Essie soaking in her last high school summer and looking into senior year and college choices. But I also know the Lord is at work, using familiar places and people as He is doing new things.
And in this season of parenting practically grown kids, we have continued opportunities to trust the Lord with those new things. College choices, dating relationships, career paths, Corbin and I have all these opinions and yet we also have the opportunity to just hold our (mouths closed!) and our hands open to watch and see what God is already setting in motion. A few months ago my phone dinged a little after 1am, a late-night text from Basden:
What she doesn’t know is that I WAS asleep. Until she texted. And then expecting that I’d go right back to sleep when she texted me in the middle of the night that she’s headed somewhere to the other side of the world to save lives and never return home again. Well that may be dramatic. But that’s what my brain does at 1am. If I’m being honest, that text surprised me zero. But my brain still does those things. And after some clarification, Basden assures us she’s not ready to move to the Congo anytime soon.
I could keep going. Each child, a zillion life choices, and we get to keep open hands. But our hands aren’t simply held open to trust our children, our hands are held open trusting the Lord. There’s a huge difference. Our children looking towards long term medical missions may feel a bit scary, but it’s commendable. We have had plenty of opportunities to hold our hands open during seasons of pain and insecurity and asking, “Lord HOW are you going to make this beautiful and redeeming, because even as King of the Universe I’m not sure you can pull this off.”
And this is where the beauty of the past comes in, markers and markers of God’s faithfulness building our faith muscles to trust Him with what’s happening now and with what’s ahead. As I walked and jogged those gravel paths at K2 literally thirty years ago, God was placing a seed of love in Corbin’s heart for me, and me for him. We were friends but nowhere on each other’s radar to date or certainly marry. I was a Kanakuk girl, looking for a guy in jeans and boots, and he definitely NOT a Kanakuk guy, not wearing jeans and boots, headed to do big legal and political things in DC. And yet. Somehow the Lord slashed our own stereotypes and expectations and stirred our affections for each other. The fact I became the girl of Corbin Wilson’s dreams was no small miracle.
Even the gift of living in Fort Worth all these years, raising our children alongside my parents and the familiarity of the town I grew up in, I would’ve never guessed it. The road I now drive to work each morning was – you guessed it – a gravel road during my high school days. I have a crazy memory of sitting in the back of a hearse while the driver – our 16 year old friend in his teenage car of choice – spun donuts on that road, which is definitely not the safest place to be if you know what is now Lakeside drive. So yes, markers upon markers of God’s faithful work in our lives!
Often on this gravel path, I literally walk with my palms up and open. I imagine my neighbors are privvy as to which days are helpless praying days. And if I’m being honest, they all are! Every single day I have to start over with that helpless reminder that I am not in control, but can choose to trust the One who is. Heavy hearted or light hearted, I start each few steps reciting aloud to the Lord that he is omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, and perfectly loving. That pretty much covers it. The same Heavenly Father from those prayer walks years ago around Kanakuk bends his ear to these prayer walks outside my home. Years and generations are shifting, but the Lord never does. He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. And He is faithful.
Lord, thank you for building our faith muscles. Thank you for the places and people that shaped us well, that brought us nearer to you. And thank you for the new things you’re doing – we are holding our hands open and we trust you. We praise you for providing faith and new hope!