Leaf in the stream.

Some time ago I wrote the following: `I am like a leaf that has fallen into the water. It goes wherever the current takes it--with no mind of its own, nowhere to go, no purpose, de-rooted and too fragile to change its course. It is only in a stream and could still be swept onto the side. But will it be strong enough to hold tight? Or will it eventually end up in the great big sea, even more lost, with no escape? What made it fall off the tree in the first place? Why didn't it hold tight to the branch where it was safe and got the nourishment to stay fresh and green?'

I wrote this because I had distanced myself from God, and was feeling lost and without security. But I was also wondering where I really belonged. I haven't lived in Switzerland, my birthplace, for many years. I had left Australia, the country where I felt most at home, after three years to work in Britain.

Then I heard someone say, `Home is where the heart is'. It occurred to me that I had not allowed my heart to go where God had led me, and instead I was holding on to a dream that made me unhappy. The moment I understood this, I realized that my heart and home could be anywhere, as long as God was at the centre of my life.

Many of us experience real inner suffering when we feel lost, not quite knowing where to go next. The following words have been a great encouragement to me during such times:

`When we come to the edge of all the light we have and we must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe one of two things: Either we will find something firm to stand on or we will be taught to fly.'

In the film, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Jones has to reach a cave to find the cup of eternal life. Having overcome several challenges, he comes to a ravine which is too wide to jump. He knows there is no going back and that he just has to trust. So he closes his eyes and takes a step into the nothing. To his great surprise, he discovers an invisible bridge.

I was deeply moved by this scene because it illustrates so well how we can always trust God, no matter how desperate the situation. For me faith is taking steps into the unknown.

Just before I left Australia, I was preparing to go on a three-week trip to Ayers Rock with a friend. I was really looking forward to this long-time dream coming true. Then I suddenly had a strong feeling that I should cancel the trip and go back to Switzerland. I couldn't understand why I felt this, but it it was too important to ignore.

So I started my return journey, stopping off in Malaysia for a few days. There I got the news that my father was in hospital with a brain haemorrhage and was between life and death. I was able to get a flight the very same day. It was so important to be there for my mother: we were able to take it in turns to be at my father's bedside. My father recovered, and those two months turned out to be the richest time I have ever had with my parents. If I had gone on the journey to Ayers Rock, nobody would have been able to reach me in the desert.

All of us are hurt at times, sometimes very deeply, and we often struggle to find forgiveness and new love for those who hurt or disappoint us. Hurts can become a security, an excuse for my behaviour--how I am, what I do, what I fail to do. It can make me hard and unloving--not only to the person who hurt me--and block me from reaching inner peace and freedom.

It is up to me whether I open my heart, make myself vulnerable and as a result find real healing and forgiveness.