The last day.  It’s here.   The last day of Bible study, the last day of littlebear school, the last day of work… the last day of structure, routine, and next-stepping.

From here the steps are random uncertain, tentative.  Are there next steps?  Did the path take a steep dip?  The looking-forward feels aimless, sounds muted, seems biggish.  Too big.  Are there any friends, any family, any… body to meet me on a step?  Is there a treat, an outing, a delight to greet me on a step?  Is there a next step?  Am I stuck?

I’m a little frightened gazing through the window.

OK

I’ll plan a project, I’ll try to rest, I’ll hope for adventure.  Plan, try, hope.  Not exactly promising.  Or fulfilling.  Or enthusing.

Here it is.  The last day.  The last step without a next in sight.  OK.  I’ll trust.  Again.  Trust promises, satisfies, enthuses up the journey.

Trust is never last.  Trust is always the next step.  I know this because trust is what I know.  It’s all the next that I have.

Until the next last day, I’ll plan, try, hope and… trust… next.