Detour
This morning before I climbed in my car, I knew I needed to spend my driving time counseling with God about an answer to a prayer that had not panned out at all the way I thought it would—in fact, it was a total flop. Even worse than just not having the desired effect—it almost seemed like it made the situation worse! Why would I get an answer that ended up being so ineffective when I tried to put it into action? Why didn’t it work the way I thought it should have? Did I mishear? Did I really not hear at all and my brain has just been making up craziness? I can’t be the only one who has these thoughts.
I stopped at a small corner grocery market this morning. I only needed a couple of things, and that store was on the way to where I was driving anyway, so it made sense to stop there. It has a small parking lot with just a couple entrances and is right by a relatively busy intersection. Exiting that parking lot gives me anxiety sometimes because of how the cars line up at busy times of day, blocking the left turn I needed to take today.
At just the time I was there this morning, I saw those cars lined up and could tell it would take some waiting to work my way into or through either side. Sigh. I started a small prayer for a quick opening to appear, but then the thought didn’t even reach completion in my head before a phrase from a book I finished just this morning popped into my head: “...or something better.” If my regular route, interrupted by this unusual stop, was clogged and would cause me extra problems and anxiety, maybe God had an idea for something better.
So I asked. And you know what He said? Turn right. The opposite way I wanted to go.
I pulled to the parking lot exit, took a breath, and tapped up my right turn signal. The way was totally clear. But a hint of anxiety crept back in because I haven’t driven that way down the road in years.
Then there was one unfamiliar spot where there had been some development since those years ago when I drove that way last—I thought for a brief moment that I was totally lost on this short detour. But again: turn right. And before long, it looked just the way I remembered it again. I wasn’t lost. I knew the way.
The drive was a little farther than my planned route would have been, but those extra wheel rotations gave me extra time to ponder and pray. The change in route did not change my destination at all, but it taught me a lesson that maybe just praying for God to help my plan work isn’t necessarily the best option. Maybe I need to learn to be patient with the detour. God’s plans take more time. Maybe I need to be more trusting that He’s got something even better in mind if I am willing to open myself up to some risk and discomfort—and that He’ll be there right with me every step, sending reminders and promised support along the way, even when it’s hard and I feel lost and the surroundings seem unfamiliar and I don’t know how long it’s going to take. Because really, He and I want the same things: happiness and joy for me and my family and each other person who ever has lived, does live, or will yet live.
I didn’t have a picture from this morning in my phone’s camera roll, but if you ever need help finding ways to see joy or be patient through life’s detours, I suggest spending some screen-free, present, intentional, devoted time with a kid. They’re pretty great at that kind of thing. Going on walks with Llama over the years has become less about getting from point A to point B and more about enjoying the time together and meanderingly searching for beauty in the world. Like this massive rose the size of her face, or this winding trail with a beautiful view and no other humans in sight. She insisted on taking this balance bike that she’s way too big for and needs to lift her legs up super high to glide on.
I stopped at a small corner grocery market this morning. I only needed a couple of things, and that store was on the way to where I was driving anyway, so it made sense to stop there. It has a small parking lot with just a couple entrances and is right by a relatively busy intersection. Exiting that parking lot gives me anxiety sometimes because of how the cars line up at busy times of day, blocking the left turn I needed to take today.
At just the time I was there this morning, I saw those cars lined up and could tell it would take some waiting to work my way into or through either side. Sigh. I started a small prayer for a quick opening to appear, but then the thought didn’t even reach completion in my head before a phrase from a book I finished just this morning popped into my head: “...or something better.” If my regular route, interrupted by this unusual stop, was clogged and would cause me extra problems and anxiety, maybe God had an idea for something better.
So I asked. And you know what He said? Turn right. The opposite way I wanted to go.
I pulled to the parking lot exit, took a breath, and tapped up my right turn signal. The way was totally clear. But a hint of anxiety crept back in because I haven’t driven that way down the road in years.
Then there was one unfamiliar spot where there had been some development since those years ago when I drove that way last—I thought for a brief moment that I was totally lost on this short detour. But again: turn right. And before long, it looked just the way I remembered it again. I wasn’t lost. I knew the way.
The drive was a little farther than my planned route would have been, but those extra wheel rotations gave me extra time to ponder and pray. The change in route did not change my destination at all, but it taught me a lesson that maybe just praying for God to help my plan work isn’t necessarily the best option. Maybe I need to learn to be patient with the detour. God’s plans take more time. Maybe I need to be more trusting that He’s got something even better in mind if I am willing to open myself up to some risk and discomfort—and that He’ll be there right with me every step, sending reminders and promised support along the way, even when it’s hard and I feel lost and the surroundings seem unfamiliar and I don’t know how long it’s going to take. Because really, He and I want the same things: happiness and joy for me and my family and each other person who ever has lived, does live, or will yet live.
I didn’t have a picture from this morning in my phone’s camera roll, but if you ever need help finding ways to see joy or be patient through life’s detours, I suggest spending some screen-free, present, intentional, devoted time with a kid. They’re pretty great at that kind of thing. Going on walks with Llama over the years has become less about getting from point A to point B and more about enjoying the time together and meanderingly searching for beauty in the world. Like this massive rose the size of her face, or this winding trail with a beautiful view and no other humans in sight. She insisted on taking this balance bike that she’s way too big for and needs to lift her legs up super high to glide on.
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