Wednesday, 8 May 2013

The road less travelled

Lost again. Where am I?

Father God, I am always asking you for directions. 

I keep asking you where I'm going and when will I get there? 

I'm asking you to show me the next step, which path to take, to show me which door should I push.

Which way should I go? What route would you like me to take?

Where will you lead me if only I am willing to be led?

I should stop asking, and just wait for you to show me. Maybe in the waiting there's more to see than there is in the chase, concentrating only on the road in front of me, pounding footsteps, breath coming in gasps.

Maybe I could sit here for a while, by this crossroads, and feel the sun on my back, and the breeze in my hair, listening to the birds and noticing the small things. The ladybird that lands on my arm, the wild flowers that grow at the roadside. The way the leaves on the trees look so breathtakingly beautiful against the bluest of skies.

Stop. 

Maybe that's better than tearing down the road without glancing left and right, backtracking when I realise I'm lost, only to set off at a gallop in another direction. Running, running, not stopping to drink in the view or notice that you're there, waiting for me to sit down next to you. Waiting to show me something.

Enough.

I want to take the road less travelled. 

The road that is hardly noticed because the entrance is narrow; the one that's just for me, not for anyone else; the one that you're waiting patiently to take me down. My path.

You know this road so well - you know every bump and camber, every hill and valley. You know that there are place where the road leads perilously close to a sheer drop, and you know secret places where there are still waters and lush meadows. You know when to stop to admire the view from the best angle and you know when how to guide me through the steep and treacherous parts where I'm scared to go alone and it's easy to lose my footing.

You want to walk this road with me, not just wave me off on my own. You want to point out the spectacular sights and you want to be there when I stumble.

You just want me to put down my maps and SatNav gadgetry and stop trying to do it myself.

Stop peering off down roads I'm not supposed to investigate. Those roads might lead someone else exactly where they're supposed to be going, but they're not for me. Those other roads sometimes look easier than mine - prettier, more exciting; but you're waiting for me to stop looking longingly at the signposts or at other people's receding backs and look into your eyes. 

I'm going to sit here for a bit because I'm tired. So, so tired.

I'm going to lean against this tree and notice the insects on the flowers and the sunlight filtering through green leaves and dappling the ground. I'm going to feel how soft the grass and the moss and I'm going to breathe in and breathe out slowly and deeply. Clean, cool, unpolluted air. I'm going to wait until the muscles of my shoulders relax and stop aching with tension and the noise in my head grows quieter and quieter. 

And I'll rest. I'll wait. 

And, Lord, when you're ready; when you think I'm ready, and not before, I'm going to take the hand that you offer me and let you pull me to my feet. And then you'll show me where to go, and I'll match my stride with yours.

We'll go somewhere, me and you.





Linking up today with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story

Linking up also with Concrete Words at Sixinthesticks in a better-late-than-never sort of way. Monday's prompt was 'The Road' and this was in my head: perfect.

Thank you, people, for letting me link up. 

15 comments:

  1. Dear Helen
    I think your beloved Lord Jesus just love your letter to Him. I truly don't think what we do is important, but why and how we do the things we do. When we do all for our love for our Pappa God and we do it with His grace, then everything we do is for His glory alone. This is mainly what my post is about.
    Blessings from Jennifer's.
    Mia

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    1. Thank you for reading and taking the trouble to comment. It means a lot.

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  2. I love this, Helen. So much resonates with where I am too and what God is saying to my own heart. We can be such wayward pilgrims, always stepping off the path meant for us because another route looks more inviting, pausing to admire a different view, or sinking low with exhaustion at the crossroads. As you so rightly say, it requires us to be "willing to be led" to a place where we let God pull us to our feet and we match our stride with His. I see His footprints all over this beautiful, intimate heart's cry. Thank you for blessing me with your words! Love Joy :) xx

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  3. Thank you, Joy. It's a blessing to me that we share some of the walk, you and me.
    Bless you.

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  4. I really love this Helen. It is so calming just to hear you describe Jesus sitting me down and having me wait till the stress leaves.

    You depict so clearly how He wants to settle us.
    Beautiful - thank you!

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    1. Thank you. I just need to get much better at doing it!

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  5. Some beautiful words, I am always charging off in the wrong direction, thanks for the reminder to SLOW DOWN! xx

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  6. Beautiful words Helen, I always end up charging off in the wrong direction - thanks for the reminder to slow down today xx

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    1. Thanks Sarah. Me too. And funnily enough, I rarely get anywhere!

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  7. Thank you for this Helen - it really spoke to me and is a message I really need to hear right now. So much of my life seems on the cusp of change and yet God is not in as much of a hurry as I am!

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    1. No, His timing is a mystery, hey.
      Hope things become clearer soon. x

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  8. Lovely Helen. Why do we need to learn these lessons over and over again?! You have such a challenging way of writing yet your words only ever inspire, never condemn. Thank you :)

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    1. Over and over again indeed!
      Thank you for that wonderful compliment. That means a lot. x

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  9. This, dear Helen, is so true: "You just want me to put down my maps and SatNav gadgetry and stop trying to do it myself.

    Stop peering off down roads I'm not supposed to investigate."

    I stopped there, exhaled. But this truly got me, sister. This is where I *saw* you: "I'm going to lean against this tree and notice the insects on the flowers and the sunlight filtering through green leaves and dappling the ground. I'm going to feel how soft the grass and the moss and I'm going to breathe in and breathe out slowly and deeply. Clean, cool, unpolluted air. I'm going to wait until the muscles of my shoulders relax and stop aching with tension and the noise in my head grows quieter and quieter."

    I see you there, sister--you described it so well-this is what concrete words is all about--I exhaled long reading that. thank you. Thank you for linking up!! :) Hope to see you again soon.

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    1. Thanks so much for taking the trouble to leave such a lovely comment. I'll definitely be back!

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