Journey - not Destination

One of the most amazing trips I ever took was with my brand-new husband back in the summer of 1981.  We took three weeks and toured all over the Maritimes, even spent a week in the States.  We started with the Cabot Trail, toured the south shore of Nova Scotia, headed up through the Valley and up to Digby, crossed on the ferry to Saint John, visited with a couple of people there for a day, went to the summer camp where we first became a couple, stayed in that town for a week, then headed up to Houlton Me, crossed at Woodstock and took in King's Landing near Fredericton, traveled down to my home town (Sackville NB) and visited with my mom and dad overnight before heading to PEI to live.

I think it was the only time in my life up until that point, that I enjoyed the journey instead of asking, "Are we there yet?"  I loved the person I was with, enjoyed even the silences.  We stopped along the way to take in all the marvels of the scenery around us.  I still have the yellowed photos from those days.  (Bonus: it only rained 3 days out of those 3 weeks!!)

Most of the time I want to "skip to the end."  

I get impatient.  I want things to be the way they're "supposed" to be in the final product without being willing to go through the process it takes to get there.  

There is power in the process.  There is value in the journey.  Without it, how can I remember how I got from A to B, much less describe it to someone else who might need to get there?

True in traveling; true in life.

There is a promise that, the first time I heard it, I was confused by.  "We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it."  Well.  There were lots of things in my past that I regretted.  You might be surprised at some of those things.  And the things I regret have changed over time.  When I was younger (say, 10 years younger), I regretted my rebellious youth. I could see no useful purpose that it served.  As my children grew into those years, I started to see the value in them.  I found that I could relate to their own confusion, to their feelings that parents are the dumbest animals on the planet.  

Up until about a year and a half ago, I regretted my growing up years. I was full of shame.  I wished that I had been brought up differently, that certain things had never happened to me.  Part of me still does regret it, still does wish I didn't have to go through the things that to this day occasionally haunt my dreams (although they don't nearly as much as they once did!)  The memories were painful; I didn't want to go there, and I wished it would all go away.  But I had started a journey of healing.  And soon I realized that God had brought me to this - allowed me to go through even the 'bad' stuff - for a very special and unique purpose.

I remember a message I heard once about "Moses' rod" - and I think that this bears repeating.  The very symbol of Moses' old life, of the failure he experienced in trying to deliver his people on his own and running away - only to become a shepherd on the back side of the desert for 40 years - was the very thing that God used to not only convince Moses that his life had purpose, but also earn him a hearing with the man who held his people captive. When God asked Moses to throw down his rod on the ground - and it became a snake - Moses was getting rid of all the baggage that accompanied what that rod represented to him: loss, failure, limits, guilt, and shame.  After he picked up the snake and it became a rod in his hand again, ever afterward Moses referred to that shepherd's staff as "the rod of God." God had become his shepherd; the rod was a constant reminder that God can use and transform anything or anyone.  

Even failures.


Today, I'm learning not to regret the past, not to want to shut the door on it.  Not so that I can return there myself, but so that I can see others suffering in that place and show them that there is a way out.  And along the way, I can truly enjoy the journey and trust that my Shepherd is by my side.