Fireweed.

I felt it before I saw it.

The searing pain across the tops of my toes. Immediate regret at opting for sandals on the first day warm enough to don them.

I retraced my steps in my mind, attempting to pinpoint the source of the pain. I looked at my digits, now bright red and angry to be unsocked.

Fireweed.

There it was in all its unassuming glory. The trained eye would have seen it at once, but to me, it blended in with all of the other lush greens. We had been riding the farm and praising God for the restoration we’ve painstakingly worked to piece back together.

In the midst of her adoration, Harlow accidentally flung her hair clip into the grass beside us as we rode. We put the side by side in reverse and backed to the scene of the crime. Harlow and Ben got out to search for her clipper, as she calls it, while the rest of us remained seated. After a bit of searching to no avail, I, too exited to join the search. And that’s when I encountered the fireweed.

See, I stepped into the thicket as I was getting out of the ranger, but it was already too late. The tiny hypodermic-needle-like hairs on the stems and leaves immediately plunged into my bare toes and left me feeling as though razor blades had sliced through. Even after returning to the comfort of the ranger and washing them off, the burning lingered for hours and hours.

The whole ordeal reminded me of how quick we are to step into fireweed because our focus is elsewhere. We are more concerned about everything else, that we forget what’s right in front of us. We get burned and then we’re left with the stinging reminder of what we got ourselves into.

I love to imagine God in pictures in my mind. I can see Him now placing all of these barriers and signs warning me of the upcoming bed of nettles. Then again how He must have stood with His arms up as if to say, “Really? You ignored all of the things I set up for you?” Probably trying to hide a slight chuckle at the sight of me scanning the ground for a sword wielding serpent of sorts.

But y’all that’s how sin and distractions ensnare us every day! We are going along, heck even going to church, and then we find ourselves scratching our heads trying to figure out how we got here and what went wrong.

You may already know how you got here. You may be still wondering how you got so off course.

But there’s One who has the power to heal. One that knows how it stings, how much it burns. He knows the hurt that remains after the redness wanes.

He takes what is damaged and broken and burning and creates something new. He doesn’t leave us in our dysfunction. He ever so gracefully removes us from the nettles and nestles us under His wing. He gives us time to lick our wounds and finally look to Him for the peace we’ve been craving.

He never leaves us on the side of the field with no way back home. Our God is always with us, always calling us back to Him and offering ways to get there.

If you’ve just started to feel the burn, if you feel the wave of burning sensation coming on from time to time, or if the burn has long since past but left a reminder you can see although it’s not longer visible to the naked eye, I encourage you to spend some time with the Healer. The One who knew we’d step into the fireweed before it ever sprouted. The One who loves you.

He will heal you. He calls us to seek Him. He calls us to use the salt of this world to remind us who is in control. And He calls us to serve one another.

I heard in a sermon today that we should not share our wounds with one another, but our scars. I love that. Once our Healer does His work, those scars are used for His glory.

Don’t stay in the fireweed. Don’t keep kicking it, hoping for a different outcome. Don’t keep telling everyone how unfair it is that you stepped in it to begin with.

Instead, take the time you need to rest and reset. We need you to be who God called you to be and to share your story.

See yall around the farm,

Bailey