As I crossed over the river bed, the colors were right. The blazing orangey red of the dirt contrasted perfectly against the happy green of wild spring/summer vegetation. My mind was instantaneously transported back to early June of 1997. 19 years ago when the colors were also just right. Beautiful.
I have recounted the hours in my head more times than I care to count. The day I was raped. The hot afternoon in that small SUV against the backdrop of orange and green. Somehow I escaped into them, pretending what was happening didn’t really exist. Just the orange and green. That’s all.
Isn’t it funny how our life can be completely shaken, and yet the thing we remember the most is the beauty of God’s creation all around us. It’s a defense mechanism, I know. To dissociate from something incredibly painful and instead connect with something soothing around you. This whole escaping reality tendency has caused me some problems and eventually I had to get real about what happened that day – and cope. But in a way I’m glad it went the way it did. Because today, seeing all the colors just right reminded me that He never changes. He never fails.
When it happened, He was there. In the years days, months, and years following, He was there. He is still here. The colors tell me I made beauty then and I’m still making it now.
And for you sister, circumstances suck sometimes. And they are amazing sometimes. And often we have very little control over what comes our way. But what we do have control over is what we choose to notice. God’s profound consistency in moments of devastation. His beauty from the ashes. His love never failing. He always makes the colors just right. And His sameness encourages us that life may change, but His greatness will always remain.