I lean against a railing, lightly covered with snow and gaze across the Rocky Mountains. Wrapped in an extra blanket found in the closet of the condo four of my friends and I are staying in, I protect myself from the cold. The mountains...are breathtaking. My mind is blank as my eyes glide over the numerous trees dusted with snow. It seems only slightly odd to me that the scenery before me incorporates snow in May, but I remind myself this is Keystone. A whispy fog blocks my view of the peaks of these mountains, these mountains that thousands of skiiers came to enjoy only weeks before.
Everything is beautiful. The red colored neighboring condos, the vast sky, and other displays of God's artwork. I see the beauty, I know and understand the beauty...but I don't feel the beauty. I don't feel anything as I drive up to the mountains with the four girls I spent so much time with in high school. I don't feel anything as we check into the condo for a night of celebrating our graduation. I don't feel anything as the evening goes on, as the nightengale quiets and the morninglark chimes in. I feel nothing as we coast back down the mountains, back to our homes in Littleton.
I realized, and am finally admitting that I know nothing. I know who I am, because God tells me that in His Love Letter to us. But I know nothing more. I do not know His Plan, and I do not know it in the least. Everything I dream of, everything I long for, I do not know if or when I will finally acheive any of it.
I feel nothing. I know nothing. And I don't really know what to do about that.
I am raw, I am tired, I feel hopeless, and no, I am not happy. I wrap myself in blankets too often. But I don't protect myself from the wind; I try and protect myself from the unknown. Why can't I just throw this blanket aside and join the billions of other people in this world that admit they know nothing of the future either? Why can't I spread my arms, let the blanket fall off, and raise my hands to God and let Him take over?
