Markers, memories and memorial stones.

I'm in the US at the moment. Perched in a rocking chair in the second floor bedroom of my friend's house. I'm in Texas, but I've just come from North Carolina, and before that I was back home in Australia. It's been a whirlwind couple of weeks of conference prep, travel, catching up with friends and now the down-time before another conference next week. I'm exhausted. But I'm also conscious that this is precious time. Time to take stock and stash my suitcase full of memories so I won't forget. 

The first stop in my trip was Mooresville, NC where I got to visit with some close friends from high school. In between jet-lag avoidance in strawberry fields and long conversations that inevitably delay dinner, we caught up. Rehashing old memories and creating the new. As we talked I became conscious of how, over the years of our friendship, we are slowly collecting evidence of God's love and provision in our lives. He's been at work, even in the unexpected times. Being in each others' company (even in long lines for 'eggrolls') reminds us of this.

Second stop was the BRMCWC, and I'll admit right here that my brain was full before I even arrived. I was teaching three workshops and was scheduled to present a keynote talk on the Thursday morning. I had booked a manuscript critique and was hoping for opportunities to chat with agents or publishers about a few writing projects. My brain was buzzing with multiple 'do-not-forget' lists. But what a blessing it was to attend and contribute to this event! 
I got to reconnect with friends I'd met the first time I attended Blue Ridge and meet lots of new people writing all sorts of fascinating projects. I had a lot of fun teaching my workshops, including co-presenting a class with Raewyn Elsgood on how to take care of yourself when writing about difficult topics. There were so many moments throughout the conference week that I felt God's provision and encouragement, especially in the lead up to the keynote I delivered.  (Photo credit: Olivia & Christina Custodio.)

With the conference over, I returned to my friend's house for a few more days then flew down to Texas. Yesterday morning I got to sit at breakfast and listen in as my friend and her parents proofread parts of Exodus for a Papua New Guinean Bible translation project they are still involved with. What a privilege to hear them at work with God's word with such faithful integrity! I want to remember these things. I want to hold them close. 

When I was doing my Bible reading yesterday afternoon, I read about Joshua preparing to lead the people of Israel into the promised land. The Jordan river lay swollen between them and their goal but when it was time to cross, God held back the water. They ventured over on the bed of the river, in a similar-but-different way to when God parted the Red Sea for Moses. It was a miracle. God at work. And I found myself pausing over God's instructions to Joshua. He told the leaders of the tribes to collect twelve stones from the middle of the riverbed and carry them on their shoulders to the land they had been promised. They were to use these stones to build a memorial so they would not forget what God had done. 

Over the last few weeks, and even as I look back over the last year, I can see evidence of God's hand at work in my life and the lives of those around me. I can see miracles. Big ones and small ones, obvious ones and those more hidden. I am reminded once again that God is at work in our stories. Sometimes we notice it. Sometimes we don't. But there is evidence of his power, love and provision in so many places. 
Mulling all of this over, from my room here in Texas, I find myself wondering. What are the memorial stones we will collect? What are the things we need to remember about the sovereignty and provision of God?

May we be a people of faith who deliberately linger in the places miracles occur - whether they are in our everyday life, or when we are traveling somewhere out of the ordinary. May we bend down and collect markers, heft them onto our shoulders, and carry them into the future so we never forget.
Never forget the God we serve. The God who goes before us. The God who calls us to be his own.
(Photo credit: Raewyn Elsegood.)