Let me hear of your loving-kindness in the morning,
for I put my trust in you;
show me the road that I must walk,
for I lift up my soul to you.
The traffic is slow. Really slow. Bumper to bumper, stop and go slow. I wonder if there is an accident or a detour ahead. And then I see an odd sight—a few cars ahead of me a vehicle drives up onto the median. Is he that impatient, I think? Is he crossing the median to turn out of this traffic because he can’t wait to get to the intersection?
But then it is my turn and I understand. The entire lane is consumed by a huge, ugly pothole. Honestly it is more like a ditch. There is no way around. The car directly in front of me dares to drive gingerly through it. I choose to drive up onto the median. My husband blew out a tire in a pothole encounter last week. I’m taking no chances.
In my faith life too I encounter obstacles and challenges. Sometimes the way ahead is blocked, the obvious path impassable or full of risks. In truth, I have to take chances every time I set one foot in front of another.
I know there is more than one way through the wilderness. Sometimes I am called to forge my own path and sometimes I am called to follow others. I am easily tempted to believe I already know the best way before I get there. I need to be reminded that what seem like detours can lead to oases, and what looks like a mistake may be the road to safety and sanctuary and refuge. I need to remember whose way I walk. Every morning I need to lift my voice and pray for discernment for the day ahead, and trust in God whose love precedes me, even to the depths.
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