Navigating

Ever feel like you're driving around in a fog? I had that experience last night. Drew was unexpectedly invited to a classmate's house, and then decided to stay overnight. I agreed to drive over and deliver the necessary PJs and pillows, and his friend's Mom had given me excellent directions. But finding their house in the dark in the intense fog proved to be quite a challenge. The directions were explicit - take exit 67, turn right, first left, several miles on the right. It didn't seem too difficult. The destination was clear - a white house with cranberry shutters. She had even mentioned a few landmarks to measure by.

I was surprised on leaving my apartment that it was so foggy - it hadn't been so dense driving home from work. The expressway wasn't too bad - the street lights helped as did the tail lights from the cars ahead of you, even though we were not driving the usual 70 mph. But once I got off the main road, the fog closed in. There were no visible lines on the road (the white marks erased by a harsh winter and buckets of salt), no sense of where the shoulders were, no house lights to guide. In unfamiliar territory, I slowed to a mere ten miles an hour, hoping I was actually ON the road and not off in some swamp. Several cars came from the opposite direction, and the glare of their headlights blinded me, but provided a momentary glimpse of the landscape. It was jarring to see hills rolling away from the road, and that the road was wide with generous shoulders. In the darkness, I had felt boxed in and as if I were on a small country road with deep ditches immediately off the pavement.

Twice cars came up behind me. I was sure they were irritated at being impeded in their journey even though no one honked or gestured. They obviously knew the road and where their turns were, while I had to stop at every intersection and squint to read the street sign. I focused on the directions, measuring the distances, noting the landmarks, and finally their mailbox with the house number 127 on it came into view. Going back was ever so much easier - was it my imagination that the fog was lifting, or did my familiarity with the area make things seem more visible?

When I was a kid, my Dad used to take us exploring on lazy Sunday afternoons. We would pile into the car and decide on a pattern to follow. We had no destination in mind, no timeframe for arrival, no specifics. Just the agreed upon plan. Some days we would take the first right and the third left until we could drive no further. Other times it would be a simple right, left, right, left. Some days we got really crazy and just turned when we saw something interesting, and we wrote down what we decided on. O the sights we saw on those trips! Sometimes a breath taking view, sometimes a natural phenomenon, sometimes glorious flowers or quiet glens. Getting home on those days was truly adventurous. Inevitably, we ended up on a dirt road that turned into a wagon path. We used to say "down a cowpath up a squirrel hole." Then you turned around, reversed the directions, and went home (hopefully).

I suppose my Father had a very good idea where we were all along and that we were never truly far from places he knew. But to us kids, it was amazing fun to explore, and impressive that we found our way back. I don't know how it affected my siblings, but for me, it gave a sense of boldness and daring. My fears about trying new things were tempered with a knowledge that even if you don't know exactly where you are, you can find your way home (and that maybe the "guy thing" about not asking for directions might actually make sense). And I am sure having had that type of experience when I was young gave me courage to drive last night when common sense said to wait until you knew where you were going!

I am struck by the comparison of these two approaches to being in unfamiliar territory. Having a clear destination and excellent directions but no ability to see where you are, and having no destination, just a pattern to follow, and a panoramic vision. I far prefer knowing where I am going and being able to see clearly. But life does not always give you the combination that works the best. And if we never venture beyond those safe parameters, our experiences will be limited, and we will not know our strengths.

I am fortunate in life to have had a heavenly Father who also led me in controlled ways to explore life beyond the predictable and well travelled paths into the unknown and back again. And I have seen some marvelous things, met extraordinary people, found God in unexpected places. Now as I face navigating unfamiliar territory in the thick fog of uncertainty, I am not afraid. He has written down directions, provided landmarks, given me a pattern to follow. He will be my light that cuts through the darkness, my north star, my navigator. What time I am afraid, I will trust in Him. He will see to it that I safely arrive where I belong and that I have a fabulous journey along the way. I expect great things.