Where's Waldo?

Do you remember 'Where's Waldo?' books? I do. They drove me nuts. I would rent them from the Book-Mobile when I was younger and spend my time with those precious Waldo books completely frustrated. I rarely found Waldo; searching the pages of the book required too much attention and focus and it was easier to just close the book and move on to more exciting activities... like playing with my American Girl Dolls or making potions out of things in the bathroom. 

I feel like lately, I've been playing 'Where's Waldo?' in my own life, except without the goofy stripes and glasses. In the process of packing to move back to Bethesda, I've discovered that some of my stuff is missing. I'm missing clothes and chargers and some semi-important papers, and I have no clue where they are. They could be at school, they could be shoved somewhere in my closet, or heck, they could be somewhere in Italy. I have no clue, and that's frustrating. I'm sick of searching and coming up with no answers. 

And if I'm being honest, I feel like I'm playing 'Where's Waldo?' with God at the moment. 

Right after coming back from our camp trip, Heather and I gave a campaigners lesson to high schoolers about the Transfiguration and coming off of a mountaintop experience with God (see Matthew 17:1-9). We talked about the idea of a thin place - that in some places God can feel so present, so close, and so tangible ... but in other places He doesn't seem that way. We talked about camp as a thin place, and what coming off of the camp experience looks like ... how sometimes God doesn't seem as present in the routine of daily life as He does at a place like camp ... but at the same time, how we're not doing life alone and how coming off the mountain and into the valley can be a rich place of good growth, where we do life together and pour into one another. 

You know what continues to blow my mind about Young Life? I think that we're preparing talks for high schoolers, giving them things to think through and work through. I forget that I need to hear it just as much as they do. The things we talk about are so salient, and the lesson about coming off the mountain has been on my mind since we talked about it. 

As summer is winding down, I am realizing with each passing moment that this summer has been one big mountaintop experience for me. From studying abroad and traveling throughout Italy to the challenge of summer staff to the experience of leading my first camp trip - all of it has been a mountaintop experience. God has been so close, so tangible, so present. I've been living in a state of true dependence all summer - relying on Jesus for healing in my heart, relying on Him for energy and strength to make it through the tough, long days at Castaway, trusting in Him to use me as a vessel and to be His light, and relying on the truth of scripture that I am loved and known and treasured by my King. This has been, without a doubt, the most spiritually rich and transformative summer of my life. 

But it's ending. I can't help but ask, how do I come down from that mountain? I can't stay on it forever - although I would love to plop my bootie in a hammock at Castaway or in the middle of Villa Borghese in Rome and never leave... I can't. There's life to be lived in the valley, there are classes and a running schedule and and errands and coffee dates and babysitting and late nights and early morning wake-ups and Bethesda and leadership and so many other parts of life that will become routine this fall. 

Already I feel like I'm living in the frustration of coming off the mountain. It's hard for me to see God at work in my life and in my heart right now. It's hard for me to see Him at work in my errands to Target and the bank, when I've seen Him at work in much bigger ways this summer. It was easy for me to see Him in the mountains of Cinque Terre. It was easy for me to see Him on the faces of kids in the club room at Castaway. But seeing Him in line at the grocery store or getting my oil changed? How is He there, too?

I am holding tight to the truth that God is BIG. He is mighty and powerful and bigger than anything I could imagine Him to be. His divinity is threaded through the mundane just as much as it is the marvelous.

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope

when you were called, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God

and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. [Ephesians 4:4-6]

He's there, in everything. Over all and through all and in all. I'm learning that it's a discipline to see Him in the valley of the mundane and routine, but He is definitely there. He's in the sweetness of a baby's giggle, He's in the sunset, and He's on the hot pavement of a long run. He's in the little moments just as much as the big moments. His divinity is just as much a part of my cereal in the morning as it was on my hike through the mountains in Italy.

It's just taking me some time, energy, focus, and concentration to really see Him right now. But He's there, and I don't want to miss it. I don't want to move on to the next thing without being aware of the ways that He is present in all of my days. So, I'll search for the goofy glasses and stripes until my eyes are strained and my heart is full of gratitude.