Crossroads in the mist

It's day two of lent and I am actioning one of my disciplines for lent. At 6am I woke up before the sunrise to organize myself for my everyday Lenten activity.
My wife (Verity) and I are currently living with my parents in the wilderness of the Adelaide Hills called Ironbank. To cut a long story short, we bought a house which settled in January but we can't move in yet as we have agreed to allow the tenants in the house to see out their contract which ends in June. Until then we live in a small accommodation block on my parents property with one bedroom a lounge and a humble little kitchen.
My parents own a 3 acre property which borders with a large conservation park. The backyard beyond the boundary of the fence line is a thick wilderness of Australian scrub and wildlife. Every night we hear the grunting of Koalas marking their territory and every morning we wake to the squawks of dozens of different species of parrots. The wilderness beyond the boundaries of the fence line is a bush walkers paradise. It also holds many, many childhood and young adult memories for me.
I am a keen mountain bike rider. I decided that each day of lent I was going to venture into this wilderness with my mountain bike and use the time for contemplation, reflection, and listening for God.
I geared up and rode my bike to the top of the driveway then turned down towards the gate that gives access to the fire track that leads into the conservation park. It was a very cool misty summers morning. It was becoming lighter as the morning broke through the darkness. the mist filled the tree tops and there was an eerie silence in the air. As I glanced down the path of the fire track disappearing into the thick bush I stood in amazement at what I saw before me. I recounted other moments I had stood at that exact location gazing into the bush.
On one such occasion I was dressed in yellow overalls, black boots, gloves and a white helmet. On my face I wore goggles and a scarf around my nose and mouth. In one hand I held the nozzle of a hose and in the other I supported a canvas line pumping water at the rate of knots. Although I had the training and the equipment to fight a fire nothing could prepare me, or my crew, for the monster that stood in front of us. The fire had engulfed everything in our sight and it was beginning to close in on us. Even though we stood 40-50 metres from the blaze the water we were spraying at it vaporized before it even got close. We stood in helplessness as we watched flames leap 50 feet above tree tops and listened to the trees exploding under the intense heat.
It was another 2 months before I ventured back to that spot and stared into a desolate expanse of ash and black sticks left as the remnants of trees. As I ventured into the scrub alone the fire track now 12 years later, I was in awe of the regrowth but also reminded of the past by the black scars that remained on the trees. The mist in the trees was even more eerie now as my ride took me on a slight incline. The more altitude I gained the thicker the mist. I kept riding until I came to a crossroad.
Since this track was familiar to me I knew where each track led. But was I going to encounter the familiar sights I expected from my childhood or has it changed? I chose the track to the left, a steep long incline to the top of a hill. When I got to the top I came to a clearing where the sun was beginning to break through the mist. At the edge of the clearing was a boundary fence and running alongside that was the Evans Drive track. More memories came flooding back. This was the track I used to use as a short cut whenever I walked or rode to high school.
As I sat and rested in the nostalgic moment God gave me a vision, a memory. I was 18 and and doing year 12. I was riding my bike home from school along Evans Dve. However this wasn't just a leisurely ride I was riding like a bat out of hell. You see I had encountered someone on the track, a guy I vaguely recognized from school. I stopped to say hi and he offered me a smoke (not of the tobacco variety). From that moment on I rode high as a kite. I couldn't get home fast enough as I was paranoid someone was chasing me.
At that moment of contemplation I imagined myself stepping back in time and encountering my former self. I just wanted to grab him and knock some sense into him. Why did I make the choices I made when I was young? I was such a young punk with no rhyme or reason. That vision was just a glimpse into a window of a past I would rather forget. That time of my life was a time of turmoil and destruction. Sometimes I wonder how I survived it. Yet here was a young man wandering in the wilderness searching for God.
That vision I had, that vision of the past began another wilderness journey on another level. As i contemplated the me I was and the me I have come to be I wondered, 'who is God for me now?'

That was quite an adventure into the wilderness and maybe a necessary journey of self examination in the spirit of lent. Lent is a time of recounting and showing remorse for our sin. It is also a time to let it go.

Shalom
Mark