The Bench by the Lake

It's September, and the new term has started. For me, this means a return to one of my favourite spots in the park near my office. A bench, by the side of a lake. 

It's a bench that's come to mean a lot to me since the spring brought its warmth and I first started visiting. It's the spot I've come to countless times to pray, to listen. 

Sitting back in that same spot yesterday, I found myself reflecting. Things are very different since the last time I was here, before the summer holidays.

This was my view back in July, the last time I'd visited the bench. 

This was the view from the same spot yesterday. 

Not quite so beautiful. 

What had once been cool, clear water was now overrun with weeds. Other than a pair of intrepid coots, the wildlife that had once filled it were steering well clear. Now, there were ugly, slimy shadows instead of sparkling reflections. The stench of something stagnant instead of balmy breezes and fresh air. Bits of rubbish floated on the surface. 

Exactly how my heart felt. 

As I sat there I couldn't help but think that some of my prayers over the months I'd spent visiting the bench were mirrored in the lake I'd looked out over so many times. 

First, uncertainty. The months of wondering whether there might be a door that might open. The asking for the door to open. The hope that, eventually, it might. Not quite daring to dream, just in case. 

Then, finally, the joy as it looked like the door was beginning to open. Excitement at what might happen next. All that potential. Still hardly daring to dream. Asking for direction, what the next step would be. Sitting in the shade and the stillness, trying to hear God's voice. Reflecting on what I'd heard. Wondering what my prayers would sound like the next time I returned to the bench, after the summer break.

I know the answer to that now. 

Now, I'm grieving over that same door having been closed. Hopes and expectations dashed so cruelly, when they had barely begun. Sadness, so much disappointment. Frustration that what I thought I'd heard and how things turned out were two very different things.

There are times it's all felt like a sick joke.

Doubt. All that time. All those prayers. For what? 

I'd love to tell you there's a happy ending to this story. But, for now at least, I can't. I just don't know. I can hope, keep praying and trust that all will be well. That it will all work out in the end. Somehow. Keep reflecting on the times God's come through for me in the past, and trust that He's not going to let me down now. 

All I know for certain is that He was there in my uncertainty. He was there in my rejoicing. And even though I sometimes struggle to believe it, He's still here now in my grieving and anger. Whatever happens, He was, is and always will be in beside me. Leading me.

He was there when my lake was crystal clear and sparkling with the possibilities that lay below its surface. He's there now, despite the thick layers of weeds and rubbish that have polluted it. And He's going to be there to help clean it back up. In fact, in a way, He's already started. 

I came across this picture yesterday, which summed it up beautifully. 

http://holleygerth.com/free-words/

He was there on that bench with me then. He was there on the bench with me yesterday. He'll be there with me the next time I go back. And he's been there all the time in between. 

I just need to keep reminding myself of that.