Whiteout Wonder

 I was only around seven or eight years old, but I remember it like it was yesterday: a normal Sunday that turned into a not-so-normal Sunday. A winter snowstorm had hit, and we'd made our way to church that day, being sure to take our pickup truck because my dad always said that "if that vehicle couldn't make it somewhere, you had no business going." But then my mom had a crazy idea... 

My mom is known for letting her adventurous spirit out from time to time (she got that from her dad!)  and there have been moments over the years when you sort of sit back and think, what on earth have we gotten ourselves into?! This was one of those times. Some dear friends, whose friendship with my parents proceeded even my life, had just had their fourth child - a sweet baby girl - and were at the hospital recovering after the delivery. We had called their room to say congratulations that morning before leaving for church and, with the weather and all, neither my dad nor I thought of us going to visit them at all. But my mom did, and you can probably see where this is going. 

Sure enough, after church and bite of lunch, my mom basically said, "We're going to go in and see the baby." Dad and I tried to talk some reason into her, but we've learned over the years that to question her in moments like this doesn't do any good. Her intuition is so great that if there truly was any doubt we'd make it or any real danger, she probably wouldn't test the limits. We climbed into the truck, pulled onto the highway, and started to slowly make our way into the city... around a 25 mile drive. There was very low visibility and each time another car would pass us, the conditions would go whiteout and you just had to keep aiming straight. Staying calm. I was so glad my mom was at the wheel and I couldn't drive yet. 

Sometime later, we pulled into the hospital, made our way up to the room, and knocked on our friends door. When they saw us standing there, they could hardly believe it: "Why are you guys out in this?! Nobody has come by, and we completely understood why. You guys are crazy! But you're so sweet to come!" I sort of had to agree with them that it was a little wild to attempt such a drive in a storm like this but it taught me something incredibly profound that day... 

There are a lot of things reason will hinder you from doing but when it comes to love, it will compel you to act in ways that defy logic. It will ask you, invite you to test the limits in order to show your affection and care for another. After all, it's what God Himself did in sending His Son to the cross on the world's behalf. 

You know, it's funny how that crazy drive in the storm all those years ago has come to symbolize so much of my life-story. I've felt as though I've been required many times to turn myself into the whiteness and press into the storm, trusting my heart to the capable hands of the One who is taking me to unknown places... in love. Just like back then, I've had more than one occasion where I've questioned His guidance and why going through this trouble was necessary. I've fought to calm myself when fear and anxiety threatened to take my peace. I've waited for the skies to clear, only to see more and more flakes fall and watch the road disappear in front of me. 

Yet, I was reminded when, a few months ago, my mom and I again found ourselves driving in similar conditions (this time out of the city and headed home), that I have survived storms like this and I can survive them again. I've become pretty adept at pivoting my soul in moments that test me to the full, and this is proof that the storm is only moving me closer to God's purpose on the other side. For someone who loves visibility and has never dealt well with change and uncertainty, this has been a process of learning to let go of my need to see in order to believe. But ever so gradually, something is changing. And I'm gaining whiteout wonder as a result. 

Even as the road goes blank and I can't see anything but swirling snow, I can still catch the glimmer of tail lights through the white. I can still notice a flicker of Light in the unknown that keeps showing me where to go... even if it's only a few feet ahead. Keep moving, God says to me, keep going where I ask you to go. You may not understand it. I may even appear irrational to you. But trust Me, it's the best way. I will never steer you wrong. 

And so, into the white I continue to go. Wide-eyed? Yes. A bit afraid? Sure. But still hoping, trusting? Always. I've seen enough to know that I will always arrive at the destination. He will make sure of it.