I remember the first time Tom and I came upon the word umleitung while driving through a small German town. There it was… suddenly, demanding we stop. This guidepost blocked the way of our intended direction. After the first week of language classes, we were ready for uninterrupted fun.

We had no choice… but to stop.

Umleitung

There had been no warning, no major indication that something was wrong, but we had a hint we couldn’t proceed in the same direction. I grabbed our German to English manual we kept with us at all times. Just to make sure we understood what that strange word meant to us on this day’s journey.

You know, there are roadblocks, closed doors, detour signs on most of our journeys. Various kinds of obstacles challenge life these days, but, for the most part, we manage and  proceed.

They come to all… these dark curtains of a fearful unknown. For me, previous obstacles seemed to be more easily navigable; Tom and I simply went through them together, we chose to go around them, walk right through them or go over them. Life shattering issues and events didn’t seem to take the heavy toll it could have:

my father’s abuse

the loss of our second child

the termination of a position for Tom

Tom’s prostate cancer

my diagnosis of Lyme disease

the destruction of Q-fever on my mind and body

One morning this week an umleitung caused me to stop…

… when you can’t go through or around or over, what are you to do? How do you take another step? I cannot see what is ahead. When I could not fix the problem. I decided to sit  there in the road and wait.

Not only was I here with the physical barrier trapping me from going  forward on my morning’s journey, I realized I was “here” emotionally.  I can touch and feel the concrete road, I walk on the grass. It’s what I can’t see that distresses my spirit.

I know. I know the promises. I understand the truths. But often the picture directly ahead is painted by choices of others… those we love. Can I be derailed? For a moment I struggle. I am afraid to enter. I am afraid of what’s beyond. Scenarios of Hollywood proportions trigger fearful imaginations.

Words of the song Trust His Heart (Babbie Mason and Eddie Carswell) come to mind… when you can’t see His plan, when you can’t understand, trust His heart. That can sound so cliche to hurting people.  Trust is not easily learned; it is in the waiting, the searching. It is in finding God, not finding an answer or Him “fixing” the issues.  Faith is strengthened while we wait for a way through or we find joy in the journey.

Circumstances are most likely not going to change… at least not quickly… or ever.  It is finding peace, living Now in the knowing Him.

Foggy morning stillness quiets my questions. I listen carefully. He knows I am afraid; my heavenly Father knows I am confused with the what ifs. I whisper, “Have mercy on me, my Father, for I am fragile” (Psalm 6: 2). I stand in front of this barricade, afraid to enter the unknown, and I remember a promise I had noted a few days earlier, “You came near when I called You, and You said, “Do not fear” (Lamentations 3:57).

This plan I must learn is for me, for Tom and me, for our marriage… that we be faithful,  holy and blameless before Him… no matter the circumstances.  This does not mean all roadblocks will suddenly be removed; it simply means, I can respond in love and gratitude for our children and  our grandchildren. As difficult as it is for me to learn I cannot undo their choices, I rest in this plan.

Easy? Of course not!

I remember that Jesus said, “Do not worry or be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will have worries and anxieties of its own… seek Me first…” (Amplified, Matthew 6:33,34).

This is the same road… tomorrow.