In August, I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree – finally! This was the culmination of a twenty-two-year journey for me, so there was no way I was going to miss receiving my degree and handshake in person. However, I live in Nebraska and the graduation ceremony was in Indiana. Unperturbed, I prepared my children for the long drive east and prepared myself for the inevitable whining and potential puking. We were going. End of discussion.We made it to Indiana without a problem, and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of the pomp and circumstance. Even the blisters forming within my dress shoes had no effect on my happiness. After the ceremony, we planned our trip home and decided to take the quickest route possible. It was time to get back to normal life.
Remind me never to take Interstate 80 across Illinois. Ever. Again.
We ended up in a traffic jam – not in southern Chicago, which we knew was likely, but unexpectedly in the middle of Podunk America. Strangely, all interstate traffic was diverted onto a narrow two-lane highway. It took us over thirty minutes to travel just one mile! We passed several cars stranded on the side of the road, their engines overheated in the suffocating summer weather. I wondered if we would be doomed to stay in Illinois forever.
Our forced detour took us through a community of exactly 1,000 residents (according to the sign). A few men stood in the road, directing the heavy traffic through the town center. I could tell they were locals by their dirty overalls, straw hats, and long pieces of hay dangling out of their mouths.
“What is this, Mayberry?” I thought.
One man, wearing baggy overalls over a bare chest, was grinning from ear to ear! It was apparent that “Goober” thoroughly enjoyed the diversion and must have considered himself rather important as he directed semi-trucks and motorcycles through his home turf. My blood boiled. What business did this guy have finding glee in our miserable situation?
We drove at a snail’s pace out of the town, following cornfields interrupted occasionally by tidy but well-worn farm houses. I watched a boy play ball with a lively terrier on a newly mowed lawn. I saw a young woman hang crisp, white linens out on a clothesline, a cherub-like toddler sitting at her heels and batting at butterflies. As the miles crept by, I felt humbled to observe these rural Americans laughing, playing, working…living. Once we merged back onto the interstate, I felt a strange desire to turn around, find a local café, and sample some apple pie. I’ll bet it would have given Aunt Bee a run for her money.
The reality is that I’ve lived in Podunkville for most of my life. My academic path and detour off I-80 could both serve as metaphors for my earthly existence as a whole. I’ve spent very little time on the “interstate” of life and most of it in forgotten places that don’t even carry the nostalgic fame of Route 66.
Some people make it from point A to point B averaging seventy miles per hour; others find themselves meandering slowly through obscurity. Many times I’ve felt like a fool taking so long reaching my goals. Yet in retrospect, I can see that God has personally directed this journey. Years ago I asked Him to guide my path and take me wherever He desired. God apparently decided to divert me off the interstate and take me right through downtown Mayberry. I’m not sure why He chose that route; but I know that if He hadn’t, I would have missed many beautiful moments.
I’ve heard that the journey, not the destination, is what is important. I’m not sure I completely agree. There is a time for one journey to end and another to begin. However, what we learn on the journey can prepare us for what lies beyond the destination. The experiences we have during one trek may be exactly what we need to sustain us through the next. Life may not always submit benignly to our grandiose plans, but that doesn’t mean the dream is automatically dead or the destination unreachable. In fact, life’s “detours” can actually serve to enrich the dream and make the destination even more meaningful – especially when we take time to slow down, breathe, and absorb the lessons God wants to teach us along the way.
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