The rest of the story…

I love this picture. It was taken on a mountainside road near Amicalola Falls in Georgia. Every time I look at this picture, I recall the sound of the Falls in the distance. I feel the damp air all around us. I smell the earth beneath our feet. And, when this picture appears on my computer screen or when I look at it nicely mounted in a frame on the wall, it looks so peaceful. But that serene image doesn’t tell the story of what was happening in the background. That at that moment the story wasn’t so peaceful. It was a little stressful (the laughter was more like decompression). In hindsight, it’s a trip we talk about regularly…and we always smile.

What this picture doesn’t tell is that the GPS took us a little off course that morning — up onto a clay mountainside road that was barely wide enough for my sister’s SUV. A road with sharp rocks jutting out and the inevitable flat tire. It doesn’t tell the story of how, while standing on the platform above the Falls, I dropped my sister’s car keys into the rushing water — and we didn’t have a spare set. It doesn’t tell the story of how we got stuck inside the park following a storm because a tree fell in front of us and blocked the only accessible exit. Or how scared I was because I slammed on the brakes on a steep downhill grade to avoid hitting that tree as it fell…and my sister was behind me in her vehicle. And because it couldn’t get any more dicey, we then had to back up and u-turn on the narrow road with no rails. It doesn’t tell the story of my tubing trip that got turned upside down.

But that’s not the whole story either. There were some pretty awesome things nestled in the middle of all the crazy. Like uninterrupted time with family. The blessing of no cell phone service in the mountains. Getting to know the local tow-truck driver who came to our aid two days in a row and who served as our Uber driver (at no additional cost). My sister’s wonderful neighbors who overnighted an extra set of car keys to our cabin. Days at the orchards. Train rides through the mountains. My niece and nephew falling in love with tubing in the Georgia mountains (but don’t ask my niece about the shoes and dress Aunt Cheryl lost in the river…she is still a bit traumatized and upset about that).

Our trip to the mountains that summer came at a time when I needed a “mountaintop” experience. I was struggling. I was spending extra time in Florida because of an injury to my ankle (I was freshly out of an attractive cam boot). Maddie was recovering from orthopedic surgery. I was navigating the early stages of the candidacy process with the Synod.

I had earned this break. I deserved this break.

So…the picture. Did I mention how much I love this picture? The photograph is beautiful; it’s one of those rare occasions when I was able to capture the beauty of God’s creation and bring it alive in a photo. And aside from the good memories that always come flooding back when I look at the picture, there is a little hidden gem that always captures my attention. This picture reminds me that sometimes even the most beautiful and meaningful experiences have rough patches…and they are still beautiful. Because sometimes when we think it’s time for a break or easy passage, there may still be a bit more road to travel.

What I am learning is that leaning into the challenges we encounter and including them as part of the narrative is important — not just for me, but for others. In a world where we can make everything look easy and perfect, it’s important to acknowledge it’s not. It’s important to say there are times when we need to lean on others. During this trip, I literally leaned on others in every way imaginable. We leaned on each other. We talked. We laughed until we cried. We made memories together.

And that is the story of this picture.

It’s a noisy, noisy world

Be still and know that I am God – Psalm 46:10

There are days when the volume of news and information that streams into our lives seems overwhelming. Times, when the best way to slow it down, seems to be turning off the television; logging out of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and other social media sites; and shutting off our computers, phones, and tablets. Even then, we may still feel the effects. Anxiety. Sadness. Stress. Confusion over what is happening in the world and why.

The collective impact of multiple sources coming at you so quickly that there isn’t time to process or absorb information can be overwhelming. I suspect many are experiencing overload as the Kavanaugh hearings have collided with the most recent news about abuse in the Catholic church, the tsunami in Indonesia, the President’s address before the U.N. Assembly and other current events that impact the world we live in. The number of stories, however, pales in comparison to the number of sources we receive news from. I consider the number of articles that fill my RSS feed…often the same story covered by different media outlets…all with their own perspective and, in some cases, extreme bias.

With all these conflicting views, it’s hard to know if, when and how we should enter discussions. Will we say the right things? Will our facts be called into question? Will we make our friends angry? Will we be ridiculed? Will we be labeled? These questions — let alone the content of the news — can be exhausting, especially if we apply them to every social setting we encounter, whether it be online or in person.

Feeling overwhelmed or fatigued by the news? The exercise of completing a daily information journal can create awareness about your habits and shine a light on why. The ability to shut down entirely is hard, so we need to be intentional and thoughtful about doing it.

Our minds need rest. Our souls need rest.

One of the strategies I’ve employed is postponing and limiting my engagement with media after first waking up in the morning and before going to bed at night. In preparing for and spending time in daily prayer and devotions, I keep technology at a distance and go old school. A cup of coffee, my Bible or devotional guide, and a pencil.

So, I challenge you to turn off the noise. Practice being still. Create those quiet moments to be alone with God and fully experience His presence.