She’s stuck. The mud, the rain, the night; this same scenario repeats over and over like a loop set on re-play. Each day she gets out of the wagon, walks around to the back, driver side wheel, drenched in the night rain, and sees the wooden wagon wheel in the huge pot hole. The task of getting it out and moving onward just seems to be too much. She is cold, shivering, alone, lost and wonders where she is even heading. So, she kicks the wheel, curses the mud, cries in frustration and waits for her will to return and for a helping hand to get her out.
It’s not so much that she feels sorry for herself as it is that she just doesn’t see the point… and….that she is lonely. Hope has been traded for mere instinctual survival. What’s the point in re-playing this scene over and over only to get out of this pot hole to then get stuck in another one? She looks up and sees the street signs and the signs are all around. They all seem to mock her with words like “there’s no point”, “the never-ending road”, “the road to nowhere”. Dizzy with confusion, sadness and despair she slouches down, covered in mud- head to toe. She does so more in despondency than self-pity, remembering what it felt like to love, what it felt like to hope, to be secure, to dream. But, now this loop, this dreary scene, plays over and over in one way or another.
It’s not that she’s lazy, or not trying, or stupid. She’s lost. Her identity got buried and her feelings have overwhelmed her like a tsunami that hit years ago leaving her homeland devastated, still looking for life amongst the ravaged land.
A thought comes over her. She realizes she can leave this old, outdated wagon behind. She can choose a road and start walking but which one? This seems like a circle of never-ending choices and each road seems to lead back to this loop and mocks her and all her hard work. Her hopes, her wishes; they’ve become like ghosts that mock her, like wispy beings that laugh at her. And, she feels silly. Silly for dreaming of feeling clean and warm and pure and on course. Silly for dreaming of feeling like she belongs somewhere, like she can actually reach her destination. It’s as though a finger of the devil himself put his nail through her back and is mocking and taunting her. It’s not that she’s lazy, or not trying, or stupid. She’s lost. Her identity got buried and her feelings have overwhelmed her like a tsunami that hit years ago leaving her homeland devastated, still looking for life amongst the ravaged land. But, there was none.
Today is the day and now is the time to leave this wagon that represents a false way of thinking; a mental pattern that leads to a pot hole or a ditch.
So, she packed and left, not really knowing exactly where she was going but happy to go away. Anything had to be better than that place. And, here she is- stuck.The journey has been painful; grueling at times and at times joyful with breaks of light. But, here, this place is different. It’s like a time warp. Everything seems skewed; time, people, herself. Everything seems warped with long shadows cast over everything. Today is the day and now is the time to leave this wagon that represents a false way of thinking; a mental pattern that leads to a pot hole or a ditch. She decides to leave on foot and walk away from here- free from those clunky wheels. She decides to travel light and chooses what to leave behind. Though she doesn’t fully understand, she knows this journey was started in faith and her God has provided all her needs thus far. For some reason this particular place has sucked her in but she is reminded that “even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me”…She wants to make it to her destination because she knows of Him that “He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Psalm 23: 4-5).
This is meant to be walked through- not around. To be felt, not analyzed. This is a place to be comforted
She realizes she is looking at the unhealed memories and they stand in front of God who is light. That is what creates the shadow of death that looms over the land before her. And, it becomes clear. This is a place of grieving and sorrow; where worldly sorrow becomes godly sorrow, where the past gets traded in for a future. Where loss is released in tears. This isn’t the end. It is a beginning. This isn’t a prison sentence, it’s a cocoon. This isn’t punishment. This is love. This is rest. This is meant to be walked through- not around. To be felt, not analyzed. This is a place to be comforted- a place to have her well dug out and filled. She wants this place yet she also fights against this place. “What if the pain is too great?”, “What if I’m alone?”, “What if I never find my way out?”, “I don’t know where to start”. She falters, yet, she walks. Trepidaciously, she walks.
This time is different. This time, getting up, she doesn’t walk alone. There are others to ease her loneliness. There are others designated to comfort her when she cries, to encourage and speak truth when she falters, to just be with her and listen as she releases all the pent-up years. This time she won’t push away. She’s done saying she is fine. She’s not fine. She’s done doing it all by herself. She is through with lonely. She’s done believing she is a burden and that she’s unlovable. This is her time to receive, to be comforted, as she has often done to others. She knows that “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted…” Matthew 5:4 and that this is her time on the road to somewhere great.