Step by Step | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Step by Step | Previous Challenge Entry
By Laurie Bahlke
05/26/22
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Have you ever been there? On Easy Street? Walking down Memory Lane? Taking the road less traveled? Have you ever been there and wondered, even for a moment, how did I get here? Two years ago, I walked the country roads near my home almost daily. It calmed me to be on a country road, seeing trees to the left and right of me, wildflowers growing in ditch banks, the vastness of the sky stretching out before me.

I made decisions on that road; moving from a full-time to a part-time position, sorting out our family budget and, how to approach illness, regret, betrayal, uncertainty. I collected small stones that looked like hearts or were colorful and reminded me that hope remained. I looked for items that belonged to nature but that had been gifted to me at just the right moment. I walked the roads in the rain, through falling snow, and when seasons changed; leafy transitions that fell to the earth left detailed imprints on both the road and my memory. I often stopped and lifted my hands high in the air, shouting out “thank you” and praise into an otherwise quiet space that filled me up and was exhaled in long steady breaths that could be seen in the early morning air.

In the past eighteen months, I have walked the country roads only twice. Once, I was dressed in a purple coat, an orange hat, mismatched gloves, and black boots. A bright blue scarf warmed my neck, and I carried a backpack. No makeup. Hair strands slipped out from under my hat. My neighbor passed by quickly at first, slowed, and then put her truck into park until I arrived next to her window. “Are you alright?” she asked. I am certain that it was my outfit and the backpack that concerned her as I was usually a bit more put together.
“I’m fine,” I pronounced.
“Why the backpack? Are you headed somewhere? Can I drive you?”
“Nope,” I said. “I’m just walking. Missing mom today, I guess. It all feels like too much.” I squinted through sunlight and caught her shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, “she said.
“It’s ok. Thanks for checking on me.”
“Sure. Take care.” And with that, she slowly rolled away, the road stretching out before her, but standing still for me.

The second time I walked was last summer, eight months after my mother’s death. It was a beautiful day, marked with hope and expectation. Camera in hand, I donned my walking shoes, and off I went. Flowers, stones, and ants marching to and from small mounds. Life. How did I arrive here, trying to pluck strength and resilience out of loss? I have not walked the roads since and, I wonder why I remain still.

Deep down I know it is partly grief and, the angst of meeting my God there in the silence. On my walks, I surrendered my thoughts in a different way from praying in church or throughout my day. I could look around and be caught up in joy and wonder. Silence melded into joyful conversation with God. I felt known and stood in His presence. On my walks, I felt I could tackle the obstacles, renew my spirit, and gain perspective. Now, a sense of renewal seems to be in a far-off place that I sometimes fear I am too weary to travel to.

The ability to stand and move forward when you feel as if you have been hit by a passing car of life is difficult. We get bumped, bruised, and pushed around by circumstances that sometimes we can’t control and at other times, by the choices we make. My weary heart wonders if God understands my silence and my questions.

Today, I woke and dressed for a morning walk. For thirty minutes, I took step after step. At first, I felt tired, ready to turn around, and, then I heard the birds sing. I felt a breeze on my face and warmth radiating from within. I felt the chill of the early morning but pressed on. I met God there and realized that I surrendered my heart a long time ago and that He has never left me. It is the “being human” that honestly, gets in my way. There are hills and bends in the road that take longer to navigate and even though I sometimes feel far from home, God remains steadfast on my every road and journey.

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