What the creek taught me...

This weekend, I found myself sitting beside this little creek at the cabin.

There wasn’t anything spectacular about it. No rushing waterfall. No grand mountain view.

Just the quiet sound of water finding its way around the rocks.

As I sat there, I couldn’t help but think about all the conversations surrounding Dr. Fauci this week.

Everyone seems to be asking the same questions.

Who was right?
Who was wrong?
Who knew what?
Who should be held accountable?

Those are important conversations, and I understand why people are having them.

For me, it’s personal.

I believe my health changed after receiving the COVID vaccine. I’ve spent years searching for answers, spending money on treatments, grieving the life I once had, and wondering if I’ll ever feel like “me” again.

Others have their own stories.

Some lost parents.
Some lost children.
Some lost businesses they spent a lifetime building.
Some lost friendships.
Some lost trust.

Heartbreak wears a lot of different faces.

As I sat by this creek, I realized something.

The water never argued with the rocks.

It didn’t waste its energy wishing they weren’t there.

It simply kept moving.

That doesn’t mean the rocks didn’t matter.

They changed the course of the water.

But they didn’t stop it.

And I wondered…

How much of my life have I spent staring at the rocks?

Replaying conversations.
Wanting answers.
Wishing someone would admit they were wrong.
Hoping I could somehow get my old life back.

The truth is… even if every question were answered tomorrow, it wouldn’t change what has already happened.

It wouldn’t restore my health.
It wouldn’t erase the pain.
It wouldn’t give any of us our old lives back.

So maybe the better question isn’t…

“Who’s right?”

Maybe it’s…

“How do we move forward?”

I’ve realized that’s where God has been meeting me.

Not in all the answers.

But in the quiet places.

The places where He gently reminds me that peace isn’t found in finally understanding everything.

Peace is found in trusting Him enough to keep moving forward, even when I don’t.

I’m still healing.

I still have questions.

But I don’t want to spend the next ten years reliving the last five.

I want to become someone who has more compassion because I’ve suffered.

Someone who listens more carefully because I know what it feels like not to be heard.

Someone whose faith has grown deeper because it has been tested.

This little creek reminded me that life keeps moving.

Not because everything is okay.

But because God is still leading us forward.

Maybe today you’re carrying your own heartbreak.

Maybe your rocks look different than mine.

Whatever they are…

I pray you find your own quiet place.

A place where the noise fades away long enough to hear God’s gentle whisper reminding you…

“Keep moving. I’m with you.”