
As we passed mile marker 49, delight and gloom swept over me simultaneously. We were more than halfway there, but still had five miles to hike, and night was fast approaching. Climbing up and over the ridge, the valley below us came into view, and the next ridge opposite us, thick with skeletal December trees. Somewhere beyond that lay our destination.
We descended the slope and came to a creek. Rather than removing our shoes and crossing in sandals, we opted to search upstream and down for a possible dry crossing. Ever so carefully,
all fourteen of us managed to tiptoe from rock to slippery rock, reaching the opposite side with dry feet. By now, everyone had dug into their bags to retrieve headlamps. We still had at least an hour of hiking. Night had set in, and the already chill temperatures began to drop.
No longer could we enjoy the scenery, and instead, the landscape became a mystery. Where are those lights coming from? I can tell that the terrain drops down below this trail, but how steep is it and how far down does it go? Will I be able to recognize tonight's campsite, or will we hike past it, unnoticed in the dark?
When it was all said and done, we each burrowed down with sore feet and full stomachs, into our tents and sleeping bags, thankful for a dry place to sleep.
The next morning we sat around the fire, the campsite-turned-classroom, as our teacher spoke to us regarding God’s desire for all nations to know Him, and how it is the obligation of the children of faith to be a blessing to all nations – all going back to God’s promise to Abraham. In response, there beside the gently flowing Ozark creek, our group burst out into a time of spontaneous worship, declaring God’s greatness and singing our love to the Creator.
