The trail was smooth and easy, lined with a hand rail all the way. Every so often the hand rail would stop at a point-of-interest sign. In words for the seeing or by Braille, a hiker could read about something to experience with the senses at that point in the hike. The sign would tell you to listen for something or to reach out and touch –moss or tree bark or stone. As a child I closed my eyes and walked along the trail, trying to imagine what it would be like to experience the hike blind.
This year is full of things I know are coming, but I can’t see them. My daughter’s graduation from high school. The scholarship award ceremony where we hope she will receive bucket-loads of money to go to school. Helping her find her first job this summer. Taking her to the university in the fall.
Sometimes concussions of fear hit me in the chest, and I can’t breathe. I stand still on the trail, and my foot reaches out. What if…
What if…she gets no scholarships?What if…she does gets scholarships and she leaves home?
What if…we steer her in the wrong direction?
What if…she’s miserable in college?
So easy to be afraid of what I can’t see.
I catch myself paralyzed on the trail, standing at the hand rail -knuckles white.
Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”
It’s strange, this life where God wants us to step out boldly on a path we can’t see. He wants us to move forward –one hand solid on the guide rail but feet stepping out with confidence. Living. Taking the risk to move into the unknown, completely trusting him to maneuver us along in the right direction.
I’m determined to accept my blindness. I can’t see, so I will be dependent. And I will learn to walk without constant fear. Risking steps and trusting my heart to the Rail.