Following the GPS

While preparing the disciples for His death, Jesus tried to comfort them by telling them He had to go away but they knew the way to the place where He was going.  The Apostle Thomas said to Jesus, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”  (John 14:1-7)

Do you ever feel like Thomas?  Lord, I don’t know which way to go.  Life gets so confusing.  There are decisions to make but no answer seems right or, even worse, no answer seems wrong.  It would be so much easier if someone would just tell me the way to go.

In my sales job, I frequently have to drive to unknown locations.  I pack the car with everything I need for the appointment and make sure the tank is full of gas.  I punch the address into my GPS and I take off following the woman’s voice blindly.  “Follow I-40 East for 56 miles,” she says.  I never check to see if she is taking me the right direction; I sit back and drive.  I listen to the radio, relaxing and enjoying the scenery.  Sometimes I even have a snack as I am driving down unfamiliar roads.  The voice directs, “Right turn in 1.2 miles.”  OK, no problem.  I am confident that she will take me to my destination because she always has before.  “You have reached your destination,” the pleasant woman’s voice says.  “Thank you,” I say.

Many times while studying the story of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt I have wondered why they didn't just follow God’s leading.  They could have made the trip to the Promised Land in about two weeks and saved themselves all that heartache.  It has occurred to me recently that I may be guilty of the same behavior.  I, too, get distracted by personal needs and wants.  I worry that things won’t turn out the way I want them to.  I am focused on busyness instead of listening for His voice.

Why can’t I be as confident that Jesus is leading me on the right path as I am of the soothing voice of the GPS?  My Lord is probably saying, “What is wrong with her?  She is wondering around just like those Israelites in the desert.  Doesn't she know that I know the way?  Hey, Wanda, relax.  Listen to my voice and I will get you to your destination.  You know I AM the Way.”

A Season of Discontent - a fictionalized true story

         

"It's done,” he said, his face expressionless.  The computer geek took his hands off the keys and turned to face me.
“That was fast,” I said stepping over to peer at the cantankerous laptop’s stupid screen now blinking its welcome.  “I have been locked out for three weeks.”  I said again more to express my frustration than to try to explain.  I pulled my checkbook from the desk drawer and wrote him a check for $100.  That is how much stupidity costs when you forget to write down your password.

The check put a punctuation point to the theme of the last few months.  Nothing has gone the way I planned.  Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.  Well, not everything, I suppose.  I still have my health but the stress is probably killing me.
              
During the summer I started training for a new position at work.  Along with the new position came the possibility of more money.  The excitement of learning something new and making some much needed cash kicked my motivation into high gear.  By fall I was raring to go but then the computer system that supports the new position crashed.  “We are working on it.  Hang on.  Give us another month.”  A month turned into six weeks and the new position was put on hold.  All this new knowledge is getting me nowhere.  I am working smarter but not faster. 
           
The work drama has been compounded by a string of silly accidents.  None of them were my fault necessarily which made them all the more exasperating.  The first one involved a shoe carelessly left at the bottom of a flight of steps by a young man visiting my house.  Boom, my foot hit the shoe and I went careening off to the left spraining my ankle.  The second incident involved volunteering at a horse ranch for autistic kids.  Another volunteer at the farm suddenly slapped my arm.  “A bee was crawling on you,” he said all proud of himself for his bravery.  I’m allergic to stings, you imbecile, and you don’t slap bees you shoo them.  I got over it but it took some time.

Since my mother died nine months before, I was in an altered state when my aunt asked me to drive her to Alabama to place roses on the graves of two generations of my mom’s family.   In retrospect, flip flops were not the best choice of foot attire for an old cemetery.  I took home a raging bout of poison ivy that required a trip to the doctor for a steroid shot.  To add insult to injury, I somehow gave myself a pulled trapezius muscle for Labor Day.  It is fun trying to balance a plate of barbecue while doped up on muscle relaxers.

I have found that nothing satisfies a bad mood more than buying something new, something expensive.  I had gotten a little money when my mom passed so on a whim I bought a new laptop during the back-to-school, no sales tax, weekend.  I didn’t do any research I just bought the shiniest, latest and greatest computer running Windows 8.  I had heard horror stories about the Windows 8 operating system but they didn’t register with me until they became my horror stories.  A problem connecting to the Internet necessitated me downloading a new driver from the manufacturer.  In a fit of rage and frustration, I changed my user name and password in preparation of returning the evil machine for store credit.  That’s when I locked myself out.

I would love to tell you that things are looking up.  The laptop and I are getting along but the job situation has not changed.  Sometimes the only thing you can change is your attitude.  I was due a big attitude adjustment so I made one.  Banging on a locked door doesn’t make it open any quicker.  Sometimes when the door is closed; there are no windows open either.  The only option is to wait and I am not a good waiter.  Being thankful for what’s good in my life helps even when it is a young man who is careless about his shoes or a shiny, new laptop.  I am practicing being thankful for the present and trying not to worry about the uncertain future.