I’m not lost, I just don’t know where I am.
I was born to be a vagabond, wandering free without worry of being lost. I was happy wherever I was while trekking. Even as a young child, walking stick in hand, I would venture out into our 10 acre pasture with my pack of dogs to explore the land. As an adult, I listened to my heart and gut as I took turns onto roads and paths I’d never been before, overseas and desert trails and so forth.
One Sunday afternoon in my turbo diesel beetle, I decided to drive up to the drop off which was a 300 foot tall cliff behind Thumb Butte in Prescott, Arizona. My car struggled up sandy dirt roads to the point where trees opened up to where the cliff dropped down to Skull Valley. After 2 hours of contemplation, I was ready to head back down the mountain to town. I’d been there many times before, but somehow, some way, I took a wrong turn. Instead of being on the side of the mountain, I was on the front. I could see my destination lit up in the valley below, but had no idea how to get there. But, as I always tend to do, I just keep moving forward.
I was really enjoying not knowing where I was because the unknown excites me to the core of my being. I was even more amused when I called my Mom in Oklahoma laughing about that I might have to finally learn to camp overnight as she freaked out. Then as I curved north on a dirt road, I see a man pulling a tank of oxygen behind him. As I got closer, I recognized Jim, a patient that I had recently signed up for hospice. I rolled down my window and said, “Jim, what are you doing in the middle of the forest? I thought you lived in Prescott!” He laughed and said that he has a cabin he comes to periodically here. We both laughed at the irony of the hospice patient helping me when the hospice staff was helping him. So, I asked him for directions, and soon I was in familiar territory again.
So often we feel lost, but somehow there is an angel who steps in to say the right words, to give us advice, or best of all give us directions home. Have you noticed that when we sigh in resignation or sadness, or eyelids close? But when we keep moving forward we see who God has designated to guide us when we are not sure how to get home.
You may feel lost and alone after your loved one died or any other loss you are experiencing. But when we don’t know where we are, that’s when faith and trust settle in. Maybe it’s time to trust that someone else will come and show you the way so you don’t have to figure it out. When we look ahead even in times of sorrow or grief, we sit in readiness to be guided.