By Jessica Brodie

Last week my husband and I took our first “empty nest” trip together after our daughter left for college. Driving through the Blue Ridge Mountains, we decided it would be a nice idea to stop by the spot where we had sprinkled my dad’s remains six years ago.

However, while I had pinned the spot on my iPhone map, I never wrote down the exact coordinates, and my phone had updated and somehow lost the pin over the years. Still, we managed to find the trail by memory and began to make our way along the wooded and brambly path. We reached the river and turned right, going up the ridge. I’d wanted to sprinkle his ashes overlooking a river, but not too close that it contaminated the water, so we had a rough idea of where we were going. I even had a picture of the spot where I’d placed a tiny painted rock, there in this picturesque location that I know would’ve made my dad happy.

Yet six years had vastly changed what had seemed like a timeless, unchanging landscape. Between winters and runoff and Hurricane Helene, the spot was familiar, yet not the same. Large rocks and downed logs now blocked the path, and in its place a new path had been blazed. The river, while still breathtakingly beautiful, now boasted massive timber and boulders where none had been before.

It was the same location, yet so much had changed.

Instead of dismay that I had not found the exact location where we had sprinkled my dad’s ashes six long years ago, a deep feeling of comfort arose within me.

For my soul understood what we all know inherently—everything changes. Nothing on this earth is permanent, even nature. While the sun still rises and sets and the mountain still stands, every day brings different terrain. The mountain changes. It’s still beautiful, still peaceful, but it’s different. It’s new. And that’s not a bad thing.

Eventually that mountain, too, will crumble. I imagine one day the sun will no longer rise and set when our Lord and Savior returns and ushers in a new heaven and a new earth.

Only God—Father, Son and Spirit, three in one—remains everlasting, and we who believe in and follow him are everlasting because we are a part of him.

Right now is a time of change in my life. Our youngest daughter has now gone off to college, and other than my stepson who comes over every other weekend, we are empty nesters. Parents are aging, beloved relatives and friends pass away and even our denominational structure is changing. None of this is a bad thing. It’s simply a new opportunity for God’s glory and beauty to shine—a new mode of expression, a new path in the wild.

As I stood there on that altered ridge overlooking the river rushing below, my soul settled anew. Gone was the rock that had marked my father’s remains; gone was the path I stood upon six years ago.

Yet the same God still stood right there with me, holding my hand. And all was well.

“I the Lord do not change” (Malachi 3:6 NIV).

If you know someone who would benefit from reading this blog, please share this with them: