Detours Not Chosen

Have you ever found yourself on a path you did not choose? I am on such a path right now, in my aging years when nostalgia is rampant in me. Since I did not choose any part of this path for myself, I would have to say I have been detoured by some other force. The bottom line is that I have been detoured onto a path that seldom makes me happy.

Empty and desolate is this path, at least much of the time. My path detoured after a sudden diagnosis of end stage renal failure, followed by a year (2014) of being in and out of the hospital, daily dialysis, moving to another state far from my son and grandchildren, a kidney transplant, and the difficult change it brought to my existence. I can say unequivocally that I don’t like the forced detour and I don’t like this path.

Most of us begin our adult lives with plans and dreams. We have arranged our first-world lives so that we will have many choices for a bright future. When we age, though, our choices become limited, and sometimes the choices for our lives are made by someone else. So I find myself in the season of life when my path is narrowed and my choices are limited. This is a stifling place to be, leaving me with at least three emotional responses:

1) I am in a constant state of melancholy and cannot seem to pull myself out of it.

2) I live with a deep hurt in the pit of my stomach, like when you miss someone so much.

3) I feel a fear I have never felt before, that the next change I did not choose will be even worse than the changes before it.

Although I can readily list everything that is not good about this path, I have never been a complainer and certainly not one who refuses to hear God’s whispers to me. I can’t explain where these whispers come from or how it is that I hear them, but I have always chosen to believe that it is God who whispers in my ear. So after a sudden and frightening diagnosis, I began to hear God’s whispers—gently, tenderly, patiently, and full of compassion. Then I heard an unusual kind of whisper, one that was emphatic and a little more forceful than the usual whispers . . .

“Enough! Enough of your frenzied life. Enough of working day and night. Enough of caring for others and ignoring yourself. Enough of not listening to the cries of your soul. Enough of constantly writing grants to fund your ministry. Enough of serving on dozens of committees all at once. Enough of putting away your creativity to direct corporate shenanigans. Enough of not drawing near to me. Enough!”

Almost immediately after that striking whisper, I ran headlong into the illness that stopped me in my tracks! The detour was severe and the path was definitely not a sacred path. I asked myself this question one late night of melancholy while resting in my hospital room: What will I do now, what will I be able to do now except pray, meditate, listen, breathe, journal, dream, sit in silence, and pray some more?

I did just that when I was well enough. And from months of recuperation and meditation, my creativity was restored. I started painting watercolors, writing in this blog, listening to music, singing hymns, creating beautiful things, writing two books, playing piano, growing plants and arranging flowers, and so many other creative things. During those days, when I needed to comfort myself, my mind pulled up many passages of scripture that urged me towards a more contemplative life.

Be still, and know that I am God. Come close to God, and God will come close to you. I have calmed and quieted myself. I rise early, before the sun is up; I cry out for help and put my hope in your words. My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise. Above all things, guard your heart, for from it flow the wellsprings of life.

Doing all those creative and spiritual things helped my soul, of course, but no matter how I tried, nothing could completely take away my melancholy. It is still in me. Although I did pull myself out of the darkness I felt on the abysmal path I did not choose, the melancholy remained with me. As it does for any of us, at times. Life happens. Forced detours happen. Bad things happen to good people. None of these happen on our schedule, nor does our sacred path always lead us where we want to go.

Isn’t that just life? Isn’t that life for anyone, no matter how devout?

It helps to remember that our path is a sacred path, no matter how everything seems. We walk it “by faith and not by sight.” I leave you with a verse from the twenty-third Psalm.

Even when I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
    for you are close beside me.

May all your paths be sacred and your detours chosen by you.
~ Rev. Kathy

For your meditation time today, I share with you this beautiful song offered by John Michael Talbot.