December 27

After we took some family photos this morning, we parted ways and around mid-afternoon, our little unit decided to take a hike up to the summit of Sugarloaf Mountain. I discovered rather quickly that the version of me from 20 years ago was probably in better shape than today's iteration, but despite much whining over being so tired by an unnamed party, more than a few topples and spills --coughcough Isaac--, and the unwelcome presence of a lot of rocky stairs, we finally made it through to the top and got to enjoy the pastoral view. (Or at least we got to enjoy it as much as we could, given that about 100 other people had also opted to take advantage of the near-70 degree weather and non-rainy skies to make the trek.)

I left the summit feeling accomplished. But then we wound up going the wrong way on the right path, which led to a significant detour and some degree of freaking out by certain nameless parties. Even though the sun had set and the skies had grown rather dark, we soldiered on through the woods looking for the white rectangles on the trees that assured us we were on the right track. And when I reminded Adam that my night vision isn't exactly snuff-worthy, my sweet Isaac dropped back to hold my hand and walk by my side.

It's not something I think of often, but the Bible is kind of like those white rectangles on the trees. Even when we're wandering in what seems like darkness and the ground beneath our feet could loosen and fall away at any moment, we can look to the Word to guide our path. And we all have our own Isaacs to hold our hands while we walk. Kind of sweet, isn't it? I think so.