The Journey has a Varied Route

A journey has a varied route, and regardless of the detours, we end up right where we should! When we first encounter detours they appear inconvenient, but, they can turn out to be a beautiful thing. I believed the one I am about to describe would break me. In the end, it didn't break me at all; instead, it made me brave!

It's difficult to understand, but the undertow of life is unavoidable. Nonetheless, we run from it doing our best to stay ahead of its pull. If given the option one wouldn't choose a situation that could drag us under, however, learning to navigate in harsh waters is a necessary skill.

The detour and information from this juncture can change our trajectory. My change came during a routine appointment. Life became complicated as I halfway listened with a plastered smile on my face. On the inside, I was hoping to press rewind wanting to erase the information I was hearing. I needed to remind myself detours can be helpful! Later that same evening, I snuggled up close to my love and whispered, "I'm not brave," some way in my torment I was reasoning the quiet of my words hoping they could make this truth vanish.

But, I am the realist, and the truth is, I knew the burden of this new trial would become a consistent part of our forever and the consideration of how it would transform us frightened me. This attack that inhabited our illusion of a perfect life could have been anything, but for our story, it was a complicated disease with obstacles higher than we trusted our ability to scale on occasion.

I felt if we could pretend it wasn't real we could fantasize a new version of our reality. All the while knowing the camouflage would fail to leave uncertainty to remain. Of course, I expressed the ordinary flight or fight responses, such as, "I don't want to go through this, I don't want to smile when it hurts, I don't want to be brave, I can't do this, I'm not brave!" Please make me brave!

I tried shutting my eyes super tight, like a toddler, playing hide and seek. Believing if I sealed them with enough vigor nothing could find me. Nonetheless, it would sniff me out like a relentless dog full of hunger to be satisfied.

Was I ready for this fight? Hell no! Control was not mine to have. The potential visions of what it would cost began to swirl with reckless abandon, and I was angry. The expense of keeping me here would be comparable to a large classic car collection, and every penny would drop from our bank account and into my veins.

Why! Why do we have to draw this hand, God, I would like to keep the Ace, and please give me four new cards. I'm not even a good poker player, and I can't bluff my way through this storm. Change is not what I desire; please God a new deal! I will do anything! I'm a caregiver, not a patient and yes, I thought what a waste of my "talents." How ridiculous of me to not know God would use every bit of the journey.

I pulled away after speaking into my love's ear, searching his eyes for what was behind them, lost in the pain that I thought was mine. Fully knowing it would be his too, wanting our love to make it false. There in his eyes, I saw the stoic gentleness of his familiar caress.

His surrender had always been quicker than mine, and I would follow, however, my red hair and Irish temper would flail with exasperation before melting in that embrace of submission. Kicking my way with bargaining words of manipulation in some way to redirect the course that was not mine to chart.

A soul search, mapping of alternate routes scurried in my mind with utter chaos, to no avail. Oh, how I prayed this body assault to dissipate, I have more to do than becoming this shell of who I am! Or so I thought, not fully understanding that we are only a shell if we choose to be! Because God is in control and every route has its purpose to get us to where we're going.

Pensively I waited for the words to come, somehow hoping it could change the outcome. Subconscious awareness of denial, denial I was heading to, and your eyes were looking through me with an emphatic plea to rest from this whirlwind of fanatical excursion, pleading for my return to the hope of surrender.

Oh, beautiful surrender why did I not trust your option right away?

At last, I noticed the thoughtful gaze upon your face, I stopped, as thoughts raced captured by the look of you that was so out of place. My sweet guy was always the one to change the oil, the tire and keep the car running. But, not this time.

There on your beautiful face, I saw the gradual fill of your emerald eyes. Beyond any words, you could speak those windows to your soul were staring back at me, with those sweet beacons filling with tears. The beautiful eyes that caught me long ago, for within them I sought my future, yet it was not yours to give.

Nothing could you share with me, except the warmth of empathy? You drew me close to the pounding of your broken heart knowing conditions were going to compound. There would be turbulence and disorientation until the navigational tools provided by God's grace came back into view.

The way you held me seemingly transferring any strength, you could muster allowing me to use it leaving little for you to sustain yourself. Such a selfless act, and yet this was your greatest attribute of teaching me to surrender. While others claimed my positive's in the face of this adversity you supplied my haven.

To have and to hold with everything we had, the vows we cherish in sickness and in health played a symphony of emotion in the silhouette of our embrace before the setting sun, of that life-changing day. And we knew all was well because God had us both in His capable arms.

We woke to the sunrise the very next day, and of course, I wanted to scream please make it stop! Take this thing from distorting all the dreams we have compiled in our vision of a life full of bliss. Destroy these feelings of despair that are creeping in as thistle running wild squeezing the lifeblood of our joy.

How dare the darkened spirit come upon our lighted home of tranquility, our peaceful memory it will not invade. The power it believes to have is fleeting, for the camp it has pitched upon our property will not take permanent residence. Here is why I rebuke you from this place, we are believers.

While lost in this moment of transition you have attempted your approach, and thus we gave you the energy to plant your feet. However, don't get comfortable for once breath is regained we will have you take your leave.

This storm is like no other you have brought, and as a lightning storm can turn its strike into the mesmerizing hollowed glass, this too will mold us into something quite exquisite. We have used the bolts of past, as torrent deluge forces through the rods to transform fear of the fiercest storm. You, God, make it something beautiful.

This petrified lightning will meet our sinking sand and in the hollows of our veins will radiate a billion joules to form the sculpture of perfect glass menagerie. For we are not like captured beast caged in the throes of dread, but instead freed by Spirit wings to rise above the rooted pains.

You crept with slithered shattering to break our hollowed tubes of a fragile state. But lined with sand they hid from view, then sand was washed away, and hollow filled with joyful resolute. Not today will your belly path take root, as root was set before you came, chosen by a perfect King who gave the confidence to bare the trial of long-suffering with strength and fortitude in Him who died so we could live.

At the final thought, we came to know there was no trial insurmountable and thus decreased the weakened plight of burdened flesh for now we trust and go to Him the bearer of the cross that taken long ago has set us free.

Today my friend if at the point of breaking news, take heed of our calamity, for when we roamed this journey new, it did not hold to bitterness, but instead, we carry through the wilderness of a storm. Therefore, let me tell you this, the raging waves did not prevail.

The days rolled on with coaster ride some ups and downs would be. Lessons learned along the way taught nothing is a waste to Thee. It's from the ashes of the burn; a salve will heal the wounded flesh, and use the scar to forge the way to everlasting peace and rest. For in the arms of husband, and or wife, there is a pleasantry, but when settled in the arm's of God, there is no better place to be!

Our Journey's friends have just begun, the broken road is blessed, and bring you to your destiny. For every turn has a varied route, but I pray we all end up washed ashore at Heavens Gate.