Determing Our Steps
The sun was sinking down over the horizon. The corn waved far above our heads, tall from a cool, wet summer. My husband, graph paper in hand, marked each turn we made as children called out, "I'll check this path!" and "I'll run ahead and see what's down here!". Littlest ones stayed close by as we tried to make sense out of the harvest maze we were hopelessly lost in.
I checked the graph path on my husband's sheet. It looked less than hopeful.
"I know what I'm doing," he said with a grin, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Hmmm," I replied, less than certain.
We trudged along, passing other searchers on our way. We passed flag markings of purple, yellow, white with black spots, blue, and then back to the spotted ones. We had come in a circle. No matter how he tried to mark our path, Jason couldn't get the grand plan just right. The turns faced the wrong way. The paper wasn't wide enough to see the whole maze. All directions were twisted, seen from the perspective of one inside the vast acreage of swaying corn.
We wandered through the maze, enjoying the sunset and each other's company, and eventually I noticed that my husband had given up on his graphed representation of our journey.
"It's just too confusing," he said, shrugging.
In his heart a man plans his course,
but the Lord determines his steps.
After an hour we found our way to the exit, set the camera up for a family picture, and made our way home, a way we did know. The lessons of the evening weren't lost on me. For I am a planner, a controller, someone who desires to set my own path and chart my own course.
Yet I enjoyed not knowing exactly where we were, trusting the grand plan to eventually bring us through. With the sun setting behind us, throwing our shadows on the path in front of our steps, we weren't fearful, or belligerent as I so often was in making my own choices. Instead we enjoyed the journey, knowing home was in front of us, no matter how long it took us to get there.
Christine can be found daily at her personal blog: