It’s confession time. Although this took place nearly 20 years ago, this is the first time I have ever revealed this deep dark secret. The other person involved promised she’d never squeal on me and I believe she kept her word. So here’s the scoop: while traveling from Kipling to Stoughton, I got my friend and myself really, really lost.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the geography in question, both these places are small towns in Saskatchewan. Located approximately one hour’s drive from each other, they are connected by “prairie straight” north-south roads and briefly, east-west jogs in the road.
It isn’t easy to get lost, you have to be really, really talented in those kinds of matters. I just know by the time I knew how far astray I’d taken us, it was already dark and we’d ended up by the side of the road … under a burning flare at one of the area’s pumping stations. After a word of prayer to calm my throbbing headache and my racing heart – to say nothing of our plea for direction – we retraced our steps, headed back north and reached the corner where we should have turned. Country roads aren’t always that easy to negotiate if you’re not paying attention.
There was just one thing that could force me to face those carefully suppressed memories: this weekend’s graduation ceremonies. Sitting in the bleachers watching as several hundred high school grads tossed their caps into the air I found myself thinking about life’s journeys. No matter how well prepared they, or we, may be, we sometimes miss the path God knows is best for us. The wonderful thing is that He is always there to direct us if we ask.
“Uphold my steps in your paths, that my footsteps may not slip.” Psalm 17:5