a heron and i watch the sun set, a quiet panic

I've never been good at change. As I make final preparations to move to school in *five days,* I find myself clenching my teeth and digging my heels into the hardwood floor of our humble Robbinsdale home. The change is coming and it's beginning to feel more present than it has all summer. My stomach churns and my arms burn with the kind of exhausted heat you feel after holding onto something for a long while. These symptoms of my anxiety are far from comfortable, and they threaten to expel any ounce of excitement I'd previously felt towards this new chapter in my life. I'm paralyzed by the anticipation of the unknowns.

But then I sit on the edge of the dock on a lake named Valentine and I watch the sun set. And even though the breeze cools and the water starts to ripple a little faster, the blue heron to my right remains stoic and silent, her graceful neck curved into a loose, upside-down "L," her downy gray body riding atop two spindly legs that hold their ground against the evening movement of the water. She gazes in the same direction I do: towards the western-setting sun. The lake, the ringed horizon of forest, the fire-tinged sky all look like their own streaks of watercolor. I'm reminded of God's majesty, and his provision for me - for us. The heron and I.

God started something in me when he sent me to Bethel, and now I have work to do to finish what was begun. I can do all things through him because he makes me strong. And Philippians 1:6. This is hard work, but it's good work. I'm fighting a good fight. And I won't stop fighting until his work is done in me. But truly, I hope it never is. I'll fight like this forever if it means that I come to know him better and more fully each day. To know him is to know peace, even in the midst of battle. .
And as for those unknowns. To him, my future is a memory. He's *already been there.* He'll meet me when I get there, too. And he'll meet me where I'm at, with what I have, and who I am in that moment. And he'll never be disappointed in me, as long as I keep moving forward.

I am able to do so because he is greater.

The heron hasn't moved in fifteen minutes. I think the graceful water color display of majesty has stunned her silent, too.

I guess there's peace even in the wildest watercolor ripples.