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I TOOK a walk during my summer vacation and got lost. It was about 5:30pm on Tuesday August 9, 2010. I had accompanied my granddaughter to the Fairland Community Centre, where she practises gymnastics. I was ‘killing time’ until her session was over. Sometimes I would water-walk; but this particular afternoon, I took a walk outside. I entered at one end of the pathway thinking that I would come full circle. But to the contrary, I landed myself in another county some 1 hr: 45 minutes later.
If you have ever walked in the suburbs of Maryland, you would realize that the pathways are very hilly. You may see someone walking in front of you and then they would suddenly disappear. And if they decided to run, you wouldn’t see them again. In my case, the pathway appeared to be deserted, except for the one man whom I was following. He turned the corner. I tried to catch up with him, but he disappeared, and my hopes dissipated. I did, however, as I walked on, notice others walking, but they were going in the opposite direction.
At first I was excited to discover that path. And even though it seemed lonely, I was bent on exploring new territory. I looked up at the tall trees that overshadowed me and enjoyed the rustle of the leaves, the chirping of the birds as they settled among their branches, and the crickets, as they vied for space. Some of the branches were leaning; one particular one was resting on the arms of a tree on the other side. I let nature have its way, and as I was enjoying the sounds. I knew later that they were all giving thanks to God at the end of the day.
I saw no end to the path, but I still walked on. At one time, fear hit me; but ‘out of the blue’ two cyclists rode past me in the opposite direction. As they were about to pass me a second time, I took the opportunity to ask them if the path would ever come to an end. “Yes,” they replied. “As soon as you go downhill.” I became filled with hope, and joyfully continued my journey.
This was probably my cue to stop walking, but my enquiring mind got the better of me, and just as I was always curious to know what lay at the end of the rainbow, I wanted to get to the end of the path, hoping all the while that I would come full circle, and back to the Recreation Centre, where I could have a glass of water and all would have been well.
But all this was wishful thinking. As soon as I dispelled the thought of quenching my parched throat, near dehydration, and exhaustion, I came to a bridge. A stream of clean, clear water flowed beneath. I was tempted either to drink or soak, but as I raised my head, I saw the beginning of the hill, and I proceeded to climb.
The pathway at the bottom of the hill sprang three turns, forcing me to choose one. It was all now unfamiliar territory. The only familiar place was a playground. It was identical to the one I had left at the Centre, but as it turned out, it was not the same. The swinger, the slide, the monkey bars, and the sandbox reminded me that not too long ago, I had taken my two grandchildren to play there. But it was not the same park.
Darkness was approaching and I could not find my way. I sought help, but in my confusion, I could not even remember where I came from and where I should be going. And the help which I received led me farther away. I could see nothing to remind me of where I came from.
I sat as if I were a poet and reflected on the events of what had just happened.
When you go through the woods, you could land on the other side. You can either turn back or go through. If you turn back, you will find the path you came from. If you pursue, you will experience new territory; and if you get lost in so doing, you can ask advice along the way.
But what do you do while you’re going through? What are you thinking? And if you get lost, should you panic, or should you trust? In whom or what should you trust?
When you’re going through the path, you could wish for the journey to end, or you could enjoy it. You could look at the green splendor of God’s creation, hear the rustle of the tall trees, or you could feel the breeze or the humidity of the day. You could even watch the birds leap to safety as you pass by. As you walk, you could imagine or wonder what lay beyond. You might come to a brook — you could either drink of its springs or rest at its side. But does the road have an end? you silently question. “Yes!” comes the answer. “Up that hill.” You run up and down; but downhill takes you to another place. The confusion in your mind magnifies. Oops! You’re lost!
I had started out with one intention: To walk, to exercise, to follow an unknown path. I looked for people to show the way. They were all going in opposite directions. Where was I going? The only person going in my direction disappeared. Eventually, I am lost! I sought direction, but my lack of knowledge and sense of direction paralyzed my mind. I sank deeper and deeper into the woods. Any help given took me farther away. I tried not to panic; I allowed myself to be led by my enquiring mind. Something within told me I am in unfamiliar territory. But I managed to remain calm. Thoughts of my loved ones invaded my mind. “Time is going,” I thought. “By now, they are wondering where I am, and why I have not returned.” I persevered, and at last! Hope came.
Somebody understood that I was lost, and like the Good Samaritan, took time off to be good to me. He introduced me to his family, drove me to my starting point, reunited me with my family, and the place I was looking for, and left as quickly as he came.
My Samaritan was with his family. I approached him when he was returning to his car after an afternoon of swimming exercises at another recreation centre. He listened to my story and helped me — a lost sister found her way.
This story reminded me of the biblical injunction, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Ps.19:1. Two things come to mind as the psalmist praised the Lord’s creation: I realized that stimulus to praise need not be limited to the visual. It can also be widened to include hearing nature’s songs; and I could have been a believer in Christ who cracked under the weight of the obstacle that got into my way, instead of focusing on the Lord, and holding fast to my confession of the faith that someone would always come to show the way.
I lost my way; I learnt my lesson. I believe that that was exactly how God intended it to be!
If you have ever walked in the suburbs of Maryland, you would realize that the pathways are very hilly. You may see someone walking in front of you and then they would suddenly disappear. And if they decided to run, you wouldn’t see them again. In my case, the pathway appeared to be deserted, except for the one man whom I was following. He turned the corner. I tried to catch up with him, but he disappeared, and my hopes dissipated. I did, however, as I walked on, notice others walking, but they were going in the opposite direction.
At first I was excited to discover that path. And even though it seemed lonely, I was bent on exploring new territory. I looked up at the tall trees that overshadowed me and enjoyed the rustle of the leaves, the chirping of the birds as they settled among their branches, and the crickets, as they vied for space. Some of the branches were leaning; one particular one was resting on the arms of a tree on the other side. I let nature have its way, and as I was enjoying the sounds. I knew later that they were all giving thanks to God at the end of the day.
I saw no end to the path, but I still walked on. At one time, fear hit me; but ‘out of the blue’ two cyclists rode past me in the opposite direction. As they were about to pass me a second time, I took the opportunity to ask them if the path would ever come to an end. “Yes,” they replied. “As soon as you go downhill.” I became filled with hope, and joyfully continued my journey.
This was probably my cue to stop walking, but my enquiring mind got the better of me, and just as I was always curious to know what lay at the end of the rainbow, I wanted to get to the end of the path, hoping all the while that I would come full circle, and back to the Recreation Centre, where I could have a glass of water and all would have been well.
But all this was wishful thinking. As soon as I dispelled the thought of quenching my parched throat, near dehydration, and exhaustion, I came to a bridge. A stream of clean, clear water flowed beneath. I was tempted either to drink or soak, but as I raised my head, I saw the beginning of the hill, and I proceeded to climb.
The pathway at the bottom of the hill sprang three turns, forcing me to choose one. It was all now unfamiliar territory. The only familiar place was a playground. It was identical to the one I had left at the Centre, but as it turned out, it was not the same. The swinger, the slide, the monkey bars, and the sandbox reminded me that not too long ago, I had taken my two grandchildren to play there. But it was not the same park.
Darkness was approaching and I could not find my way. I sought help, but in my confusion, I could not even remember where I came from and where I should be going. And the help which I received led me farther away. I could see nothing to remind me of where I came from.
I sat as if I were a poet and reflected on the events of what had just happened.
When you go through the woods, you could land on the other side. You can either turn back or go through. If you turn back, you will find the path you came from. If you pursue, you will experience new territory; and if you get lost in so doing, you can ask advice along the way.
But what do you do while you’re going through? What are you thinking? And if you get lost, should you panic, or should you trust? In whom or what should you trust?
When you’re going through the path, you could wish for the journey to end, or you could enjoy it. You could look at the green splendor of God’s creation, hear the rustle of the tall trees, or you could feel the breeze or the humidity of the day. You could even watch the birds leap to safety as you pass by. As you walk, you could imagine or wonder what lay beyond. You might come to a brook — you could either drink of its springs or rest at its side. But does the road have an end? you silently question. “Yes!” comes the answer. “Up that hill.” You run up and down; but downhill takes you to another place. The confusion in your mind magnifies. Oops! You’re lost!
I had started out with one intention: To walk, to exercise, to follow an unknown path. I looked for people to show the way. They were all going in opposite directions. Where was I going? The only person going in my direction disappeared. Eventually, I am lost! I sought direction, but my lack of knowledge and sense of direction paralyzed my mind. I sank deeper and deeper into the woods. Any help given took me farther away. I tried not to panic; I allowed myself to be led by my enquiring mind. Something within told me I am in unfamiliar territory. But I managed to remain calm. Thoughts of my loved ones invaded my mind. “Time is going,” I thought. “By now, they are wondering where I am, and why I have not returned.” I persevered, and at last! Hope came.
Somebody understood that I was lost, and like the Good Samaritan, took time off to be good to me. He introduced me to his family, drove me to my starting point, reunited me with my family, and the place I was looking for, and left as quickly as he came.
My Samaritan was with his family. I approached him when he was returning to his car after an afternoon of swimming exercises at another recreation centre. He listened to my story and helped me — a lost sister found her way.
This story reminded me of the biblical injunction, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Ps.19:1. Two things come to mind as the psalmist praised the Lord’s creation: I realized that stimulus to praise need not be limited to the visual. It can also be widened to include hearing nature’s songs; and I could have been a believer in Christ who cracked under the weight of the obstacle that got into my way, instead of focusing on the Lord, and holding fast to my confession of the faith that someone would always come to show the way.
I lost my way; I learnt my lesson. I believe that that was exactly how God intended it to be!
