The Shadow of Your Wings

Several weeks ago we took another trip to the Ozarks. It was hot, humid, and frankly miserable, but one early morning I took advantage of the relative cool and hiked up the mountain. I’d been sitting at the base of that hill for a day or two, staring at it, considering what the Lord has said to me about stepping out and up with Him when I thought that I would “just do it.” Sort of a climb of faith, acting out what I believe to be a prophetic word.

I prayed my way over the rocks, through the woods, until I reached the peak, where I sat for a time in the stillness. There the Lord met with me, showing me some things that I needed to let go of, “release.” I did. At least one of those things. It was a sweet though sad moment. Sad because the letting go involved a person I love. Sweet because I found the sense of peace and a liberty that I longed for.

Once I found my way back to camp I discovered that the dreaded “seed ticks” had infested my being. This happened last year, too, when I dared to wander the piney woods of Louisiana in shorts and sandals. I knew nothing of these nasty little buggers, barely the size of the point of a straight pin. Unlike regular ticks, which you can feel and see easily, there is no way of knowing these little critters have gotten on you until the damage has been done. Now, whether the Arkansas seed tick is less potent than their cousins in Louisiana, or I (blessedly) developed a bit less sensitivity to them after last year’s bout, or just that there were considerably fewer bites, I managed to get through this go-round with relatively little discomfort.

After a serious scrub down in a HOT shower and a liberal dousing in vinegar I returned to my lawn chair in the valley and resumed my pondering of the mountainside. Why, I wondered, did the Lord allow me to be attacked by those vicious little bloodsuckers when I was just doing what He had lead me to do? Dear Husband took a hike up that hill later in the day and returned with nary a scratch (or an itch!) Why, Lord? (Not to wish a tick on him, just wondering why I get chewed on and he doesn’t.) But seriously. of greater import, why was I attacked?

I know there is much said and written by men (and women) of the church about being prepared for an enemy attack when one steps out for God. Can’t say I’m too keen on those observations - my thought being that if God calls God covers. I most truly believe that He’s got my back (which, incidentally, was the area that received the most bites.) In fact, it would be fair to say that I abhor those “warnings” when given - because I think they actually discourage people from doing a thing for the Lord or His Kingdom by creating fear.

Yet, here I sit, safe in the valley, a little afraid of taking another step onto the mountain lest I be eaten up again.

HEY - anyone know a good brand of organic bug spray?