Guest Post by Vivian Hyatt
Some days—some years—that’s what it’s like.
I learned something about that one summer in the tiny country of Albania.
Along with my husband and our team of five, we had just finished three sweaty days of trekking through very small villages, carrying with us the film Jesus, and inviting mayors’ offices, schools, everyone we met, to watch a showing in their town square, where we would manually set up a large screen and a projector. The whole town usually turned out. Never mind that we also had a few visiting goats. It came with the territory.
When I say “trekking,” what should come to your mind are long hikes between villages, walking around each village, knocking on gates or doors, all day long—and we never knew where we would sleep at night. Under the stars was a possibility. However, we were always eventually invited by the hospitable Albanian people. Sometimes we would eat our evening meal at midnight…and double up in beds…and if we had to find the outhouse in the middle of the night, we might be keeping company with the donkey.
Now, we had three days of R&R at “base camp,” along with other like teams, before the next round of villages. What did that mean? Well, a shower for one thing, and a bed to myself in the crowded women’s wing of the camp.
As part of “Rest and Relaxation,” a hike—an uphill hike—was planned. My intrepid husband thought it was a great idea and signed us up. His motto is: No experience should be left unturned!
For some reason, I went along.
Halfway up that hill—or less or more, how did I know?—my tired feet could not haul my 60-year-old body another step. I went to our young Albanian guide and said, “I’ll just sit down here and wait for the rest of you to come back.” He was sweet but adamant: “Oh, no. I’m not leaving anyone behind. You have to come with us.”
And of course, he was right. He was in charge of this group and being very responsible. What if I started down by myself and got lost? Among other possibilities that I may not have reckoned with.
That was when I found out I actually could put one foot in front of the other when I thought it was not possible to go any farther. I literally watched the feet in front—uphill from me—and went on, all the way to the top.
“Even when I don’t think I can do it—can’t go on in this care, in this worry, in this set of overwhelming circumstances, with this hard news that seems to come from several directions at once.”
In life, as in hiking, sometimes the only way uphill is to put one foot in front of the other. Even when I don’t think I can do it—can’t go on in this care, in this worry, in this set of overwhelming circumstances, with this hard news that seems to come from several directions at once. Life does not usually let us stop and conveniently rest before we have to take the next step or make the next difficult decision.
It helps, of course, to have a guide. A guide who goes on in front. A guide who can confidently say, “I’m not leaving you behind. I will get you to the top.”
Job, a man who had gotten all the bad news one person can get, was able to say of God, “…He knows the way I take; when he has tried me, I shall come forth as gold…for he will complete what he appoints for me. My foot has held fast to his steps…” (Job 23:10, 11, 14)
With God as my guide, his footsteps going ahead of me, I can be confident of getting where he wants me to go.
We’ll get to the top, I seem to hear him say.
That’s his part. Mine is to keep my eyes on his steps and put one foot in front of the other.
Living With Eternal Intentionality®
“…He knows the way I take; when he has tried me, I shall come forth as gold…for he will complete what he appoints for me. My foot has held fast to his steps…” (Job 23:10, 11, 14)
Vivian and her husband, Trent, served with Cru in Eastern Europe and Russia for 39 years. They now live in Dayton, Ohio, and go back to Eastern Europe twice a year to teach in the Institute of Biblical Studies and to mentor missionary leaders. When she’s not on airplanes, Vivian enjoys gardening, reading books to Trent while he washes the dinner dishes, skyping with her four grandchildren who live in Germany, as well as her five children who live in two countries outside the US and two states. She must read, and she must write. Best of all, she loves sharing life with Trent.
