Watching the Storm

When I was a youth director in Pennsylvania, I decided that I was going to hike the portion of the Appalachian Trail that goes through that state. Without saying this to anyone I arranged for a number of hikes with my youth group. The first one started at the border of PA and Maryland and went north. The next started where the last finished. You get the idea. Each hike simply started where the last one left off, so could make my way along the entire trail. Depending on the age of the group, it took a while. Before the trail moves out of PA it comes to the Delaware Water Gap, and, so, one of my last hikes was that section. Just south of the Water Gap is a cliff that overlooks a large valley. It’s a beautiful spot and there’s a shelter there that can hold some 25 people, if they’re all packed in. It’s a 3-sided shelter and we hung tarps down from the roof to cover the 4th side, because there was a storm coming. As we settled in the for evening, cooking dinner, setting up sleeping spaces, etc. we saw the thunder heads at the other end of the valley. Lightning bolts began to burst downward, or light up the inner core of the clouds. We could see a sheet of rain under the blackening clouds and sky, pouring over the houses below, but it was just a cool breeze where we were. We sat for the whole evening with our fire, watching the arrival of the storm. The reason I know that we could fit about 25 people in the shelter is because about 10 extra hikers added onto my crowd of 15 students and leaders by the time the rain began pounding down on us. Through the night, the rain and wind pounded on our shelter, but the tarps stayed in place, and we stayed dry. I’m writing this on Election Day, without any knowledge of the outcome, but with an assurance of the truth. Regardless of who wins, we don’t depend on them to be our shelter from the storms of life. We rely on a greater source of strength and hope. Blessings, Geoff