Proof The Bible Is True

The wind gently combing through the rust-colored weeds, calm waves lapping at the hull of my yellow kay­ak. Peaceful, right? Wrong. I didn’t want to spend one more minute on this stinkin’ river out in the middle of nowhere.

 

I swatted another mos­quito. I was tired of muttering to the empty air, sick of complaining, sick of being alone. Sick of myself.

 

Ever since my wife, Mary, died, seven years earlier, I’d been search­ing for something I couldn’t quite de­scribe. I’d quit my job as a restaurant manager to hike the Appalachian Trail, more than 2,000 miles. Then I’d biked 5,000 miles from Washington State to Florida. All by myself.

 

Alone was not the way we did things where I came from. I grew up in a traditional Mennonite family. My three sisters’ idea of getting away from it all was the cross-country bus trip with 30 of our cousins that they were on right now. I needed to be with family, they said.

 

Read More: Off Course, Thanks to Divine Guidance – Guideposts