Last weekend before we left for the beach, Joe and I wanted to get out of the house and just go be together somewhere. We live in a beautiful place in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains and yet, we never get out. So we grabbed the dog and some granola bars and water, doused ourselves with bug spray, hopped in the car and drove to a park about twenty minutes up the road. We walked around aimlessly exploring trails for about forty-five minutes, but I could tell Joe was getting restless and bored with the easy trails.
So I asked him, "Joe, what do YOU really want to do?" He, of course, is a "Stein" and a very competitive male, and he wanted to go on the trail marked 'Most difficult.' I had a crisis; I knew the easy trails were designed for families and young children, and honestly, I was in my comfort zone there. But on the other hand, my man desperately wanted to explore and I was the only thing holding him back. Against my better judgment, I decided to go.
So we set out on the trail, having no idea how far it was or how high up the mountain it went. The weather looked like it might storm and it would be getting dark in a little over an hour. The beginning of the trail was an intense climb for a good twenty minutes at an angle that looked like if you fell, you were going all the way down...hard. It got steeper and rockier the higher we went and the trail was not as clearly defined as some of the easier ones we had taken that day. This was the road less travelled by that Robert Frost referred to in
The Road Not Taken, I was sure of it.
We would go for about twenty minutes and look around, trying to tell if we had reached the top. The woods were so thick and we had no real point of reference. Joe walked in the front, Tex in the middle, and I pulled up the rear. The darker it got, the more we had to watch our footing on the rocks. Neither of us had cell service up here and if one of us got hurt or turned an ankle, how would we call for help? Would we have to spend the night up here? I know there have been bear sightings in the area and the whole time we heard rustling around us in the bushes. I tried not to let my mind go there. Joe was my teammate and he was in the lead role. Wherever he went, I was going too. We had no idea what would be up ahead, but whatever came, we were going to face it together. I realized how much we were desperately relying on each other for strength, encouragement and support. You may think,"Katy, come on, its just a hike," but at that point, we had no idea if we were one mile or ten miles from the car, a storm was coming, and it was getting so dark we could hardly make out the markings on the trees to tell us we were still on the right path. Not thinking that it ws going to take us this long, we had left all food and water in the car as well.
I began to think that night about how our hike reminds me, at times, of my walk with God. We take the easy roads in life, stay in our cushy comfort zones, love those who are easy to love, and choose not to take too many risks. God is saying if you will trust and seek me with ALL your heart, follow me daily and pick up your cross, even through the hard times, I will reward you! He will bless us beyond our greatest expectations if we will walk by faith and not sight, following in HIS footsteps. That night, we made it to the car after almost three hours total, just as the sun was about to hide behind the hills for the night. I had never felt like I leaned and relied on my Joe that much in our three years together. I began to think what my spiritual life would look like if I would cling to God with that same intensity.
He loves us so much. I am daily reminded of this, whether it comes from reading the Word and seeing how faithful He was to His people, or something as simple as taking a hike. I hope that today, you would follow closely in His footsteps, and even though you may not be able to see clearly where He is leading, I pray that you will trust Him wholeheartedly and believe that He has good plans for you.
"The Road Not Taken"
Robert Frost. 1875– TwO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 
