I’m directionally challenged.
If the sun’s shining and I vaguely know what time of day it is, I can somewhat guess the points on a compass. After that, everything’s up for grabs.
Back in the day, before GPS became easy, I’d stop at gas stations for directions. I carried a notebook for this purpose–I could never remember what was said. Or I’d use a real map.
With the inception of GPS, I believed my problems would be solved. Plug in an address and follow directions. Piece of cake.
Until the directions don’t take you where you want to go.
I was to meet with a small group of people to have a conversation about team dynamics. I love this stuff, so I was looking forward to it. I checked the amount of time it would take to get there–32 minutes to be exact–added an extra ten minutes to account for any unusual traffic, and headed to the appointed address.
Or so I thought.
Ten minutes into the trip, I checked the GPS for the route. To my dismay, it now said I’d not show up at the address for over an hour.
My phone has acted oddly on occasion. My husband thinks it’s all me. He doesn’t understand that technology in my hands is a disaster.
I’ve become confident of getting where I need to go by relying on my GPS. This situation sent me into a tailspin. I thought going a little further might help it recalculate appropriately.
It added ten more minutes to the travel time.
I yelled at my phone and the disembodied voice giving me directions. Every time she’d comment, my response got edgier and more unkind. She’d tell me to turn a way I knew at that point had to be wrong, and I’d shout back, “Really? You’re lost too?”
After driving an hour with forty minutes still to go, I called the folks I was meeting with and told them why I was late. I’m quite responsible, so I was close to tears trying to explain what had happened. I desperately wanted to blame someone.
This gentleman dropped me a pin. And kindly chuckled over the mishap.
I was fifteen minutes from the house.
I had the correct address.
My GPS was as directionally challenged as I was.
In life I often ask the wrong people what direction I should take, what path I need to follow. Someone whose agenda is different from mine or doesn’t know me as well as I thought. Someone who is clueless about their own path.
There is no person alive who cares genuinely about my every need and question. Of the concerns I have about wanting to make what I do count. Not even my family. They love me, but they’re involved in their own journeys. Great intentions but no capacity to make my life work.
Only Jesus knows and cares about my issues, my path. He alone is fully invested in me. He gave His all for my sake and now stands ready to walk with me through the mine field of life.
End game is heaven.
That’s hopeful rerouting.
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