Seasons of wandering are inescapable.
They always appear to be aimless, purposeless, destination-less to those on the outside looking in (perhaps even to ourselves) but more is going on behind the curtain of our heart.
A time of processing, questioning, and wrestling is underway. What looks and feels like lostness might be the beginnings of new birth.
Wanderings, done right, purge. They remove something we need to release. We struggle, and yet, come to grips with what must go. We say our goodbyes and we give it up.
Far from being lost, we find the way forward.