There is a path that I often walk. I have walked it many times. When I walk it, I don’t need to look where I am going, I know the path and the way is clear. I don’t have to think about where it goes or which way I should turn, because I already know. I don’t think about the journey. I think more about the destination. Or perhaps where I’ve just been. Or maybe the football scores. Or maybe about pineapple wielding princesses riding on the back on pandas.
Then one day, or should I say one night, my experience was very different. It was dark and the few lights that were dotted about had all failed. It was a cloudy night so even the moonlight was blocked from showing my way. I could no longer rely on seeing my way forward and I discovered that I no longer knew the path at all. With each step I felt the ground beneath my feet. Ground that I had walked over time and time again yet never truly felt. I felt each bump. I felt the camber of the path. And I felt it’s hardness. Sometimes it wasn’t hard at all, and I instantly knew that it was not the tarmac path that I was walking on but the soft squidgy grass at its side. I quickly altered my course as I longed to return to the security of the solid ground. Each step was earned. Only a little slower than my usual journey, but each moment was about me and the path. I no longer thought of my destination, my football team or royalty clutching fruit. I came to know the path in a way I had never before despite not being able to see it.
Sometimes, life feels very familiar. The same routines, the same paths. Sometimes we can take for granted our everyday existence not noticing that this too is part of our journey. Our way forward is so clear we don’t think about it and maybe don’t even notice where we are in life with our minds busy with other things. But sometimes is life, suddenly the light is taken from our feet. Each footstep becomes uncertain, and we feel like we no longer know where we’re going or how we’ll get there. This can be terrifying. And we can want desperately for it to be over. But after my night-time adventure I wonder if God wants us to experience this so we might really be in the moment. To know that each moment, this moment is all that we ever have. To learn to appreciate it. To learn to live it. And rest assured, daylight will follow the night.
Originally written for the November 2023 ABC Newsletter
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