Getting There from Here

When we come upon a contrast that’s an adjacency — two very different things side by side, co-existing in harmony — we can often find some delight in observing it or perhaps even living in it.  When, on the other hand, we see or experience a contrast that resembles a head-on collision, it’s more likely to be scary than delightful.

Such was the case several days ago when I, driving a recently repaired Honda Civic, rounded a curve on a dirt road and came face to face with a tremendous truck.  The guy behind the wheel didn’t seem particularly concerned and just waited for me to pull over.  Whatever issues I may have been mulling over in the moments before this encounter – perhaps the anxieties involved in planning a move — they suddenly seemed minor compared to the crisis that nearly happened right then and there.

Fortunately, this kind of harrowing event is not a daily occurrence for most of us.  Generally, we can have faith that the road is wide enough for two cars to go in opposite directions.  But I bet you have noticed, along with the clusters of graceful Queen Anne’s Lace which line so many routes in our area, how many orange signs are out there this summer, announcing construction projects of all kinds and often making us re-figure how we’re going to get to a particular destination.

Without trying to bring forth too many paths diverging in yellow woods, I venture to say that this common behind-the-wheel moment — of having to change course, consider other avenues when the one you were on seemed secure – resembles other moments in life not just a little bit.

Sometimes, of course, the “Detour” sign points in a certain direction and you don’t have to think too much.  Other times, you’re on your own.  This happened to the road-toughened realtor who was driving me on a whirlwind tour of 10 houses last week:  she came upon a “Road Closed” sign just about a mile away from the seventh place she had on her list and – undeterred — drove us about five miles another way to get there.  I thought that my background as a sports mom put me in a (dubious distinction) category of one who thinks nothing of going many miles in a day to arrive at the right field or rink or court, but this woman showed a kind of stamina for spending all day closed up in a car that left me wanting to just collapse on the next green lawn.  Which I did, at that seventh house.

My current favorite road sign is one I’ve been passing every day on the way home; it blinks in succession with a couple of other more factual messages about the schedule of the current project underway.   This one, no doubt familiar to you too, has a different tone, encouraging us to reach for our best creative selves as drivers:   “Seek Alternate Route.”   Suddenly, instead of drifting off into boredom behind the wheel as we follow the same old road for the umpteenth time, we need to take initiative, become seekers, problem solvers. 

Years ago, I became certified to teach in public school by enrolling in an intensive summer program in Connecticut called the “Alternate Route.”  Having gone straight from college to work in boarding schools, I thought it might be wise to get this additional credential for the road stretching ahead.  Spending long days away from my one year old child was excruciating, and I taught “under” the certificate only intermittently when my kids were young, but it has helped me in the long run.  While I may have sought out the program in the first place, I definitely do most of my seeking of alternate routes now in the classroom:  trying to find new strategies that work when the one I thought was all I needed lets me down for some reason.

In the months ahead, as my husband leaves the title of Rector — and more than a decade of service in one congregation — to become Bishop, and we try to create a new home for our family in New Hampshire, I expect to be seeking lots of new routes.  In some circles, judging by what I sometimes see on bumper stickers, people happily proclaim that they have found “The Way.”  I wonder what that experience is like: for me, living is always more about trying to find a series of ways to move forward, often amidst obstacles or at least distractions, that allow me to hold onto a certain set of unshakable values and preserve joy.

Here’s wishing us safe travels on lovely summer roads, open hearts for detours and re-directions of all kinds, and a willingness to discover new destinations.