On a recent drive into the country to go to a friend’s house for a playdate, with the kids happily talking in the back, planning what they would do with them that sunny afternoon, I couldn’t help but to suddenly think of something that had happened on the way back from this friend’s house a couple of months ago.
As a family, we all went out to eat dinner with my friend’s family at their home and spend the evening enjoying their company. On the way home, we decided to try a route that was different than the one we usually take — a highway that can wind around and be dark, but we know it. Instead, we decided to use our GPS and see if we could find another way home.
The kids were mostly quiet in the back of the van, as the GPS told us which way to go. Eric and I, however, used our knowledge of what we thought the way was, and seemed to continually go the opposite of the way the GPS told us each time. As we did this, we discussed it, often like this, “I’m pretty sure if we go straight here instead, then that will be more direct.” Over and over we did this.
Sometimes, we had to drive considerably slower than the posted speed limit. We thought we knew where we were and where we were headed, but it was difficult to be in the countryside in the pitch black, save for the headlights.
Again, the GPS would tell us one way, and we confidently went another way.
Noah (our very sensitive almost 10 year old) chimed in, “Are we lost?”
No, we assured him, in a quick manner. We thought we knew a better way than the GPS, we told him, and then busied ourselves with talk amongst ourselves of the next turn, and what we thought would be around it.
I know that at this point, it probably does sound like we were lost. But, we weren’t. We did know where we were going. And, finally when we were to familiar sites, we heard an audible sigh come from Noah. It was a sigh that said so much about his state of mind at that point.
He then went on to say, “I’m so glad we aren’t lost anymore.”
I told him again, “We knew where we were going, it was just a different way.”
It was almost as if he couldn’t comprehend that. He continued, with fear still in his voice, “I prayed and prayed. I prayed that God and all of His Angels would watch over us and protect us.”
I was rendered nearly speechless. I wanted to sob. He had been so afraid, but he didn’t tell us. Sure, he hinted at it when he asked if we were lost, but he didn’t really tell us. It seemed that he was so deep in his despair and fear that he couldn’t imagine that we could help. Because, of course, if he had told us how scared he was, we would have reassured him more. We would have told him exactly what route we were taking to get us safely home.
It was on that later sunny trip that I realized that there are lots of those times in our lives. Lots of those dark and winding road experiences, they just don’t all happen in a dark and winding road in the back of your parents’ minivan.
And, just like in Noah’s time in darkness, for many of us, there are people who are willing to help. Really, they are not only willing to help, but they want nothing more than to help us feel safe. The problem is, it is in those times when the people who are able to help us don’t know how scared we are. Why is it that it’s so hard to speak up and ask for that help? Why is it that so many of us are afraid to admit that we are scared or too stressed or just can’t do it all?
I took comfort in knowing that in such a deep despair, Noah looked to God for help. I think that was part of what made me want to cry too. But, another part was that I wished he would have asked for help. I would have been there for him. I would have had Eric pull over, I would have climbed back to him in the van, put my arms around him and promised him that we would get him safely home.
I just hope that maybe my quiet reflection that sunny day will act as a reminder to me that the next time I think that I’m lost on that dark and winding road – there are a lot of people in my life that would gladly pull over the van, put their arms around me, and promise that I will get safely home. And, likewise, I pray that I can listen as I go through life for the chance to be that person to someone else.
photo by bionicteaching
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