It’s less than a mile if you walk from one end to the other, but the path through Green Lake is paved with 25 years of my life.
I walked through it as a pregnant teenager, not sure how I would ever manage a baby at that age. Then I watched that baby grow up and play baseball on those diamonds. Now he’s 24 and coaching.
I walked through that park as a young widow. I cried my heart and soul out on that dock. I could’ve filled Green Lake with those tears. I had no idea what life would look like or how I would go on.
I walked through that park and sat on that dock worried about my sweet girl. How she would navigate some of the challenges thrown her way. Now she’s a full-time college student and working in a field she loves.
I sat on that dock after my sister experienced several absolutely devastating miscarriages, begging God to please fix this somehow and give her healthy babies. Now they’re 3 and 6.
I ran through that park and collapsed on that dock during the toughest battles of my marriage, grieving everything I thought my life would be and wasn’t. I sat by that water and breathed in the air around me trying to find the strength to keep moving.
They emptied the lake this spring for some major and much needed drainage repair and renovations. It had been housing it’s own filth and toxicity for years.
It looks desolate and bare. It looks torn up and treacherous. Kind of sad and empty. Every time I walk by, there are more construction vehicles where the water once stood. There are mini mountains of rocky dirt and little hills of sludge and mud. Ruts that look like they run a mile deep. But after all this. After all of this. Someday soon. Someday soon when it’s fixed and all is set to rights, it will not be back to normal; It will be new. It will be healthy and thriving and full of life. The way it always should have been. It will be alive again.
I walked through the park this week. The leaves are turning and the sun was shining through the trees and it was so awe-inspiring, I could not contain my tears. The lake itself doesn’t look much different right this minute, but it’s going to. It’s going to look different really soon. And when I see it, I’ll be reminded that sometimes, what looks like complete destruction is really just the beginning of something beautiful.