Show Me the Way

I wish God would just show me…

the way, the answers, the reasons why things happen the way things happen.

I wish God would just show me.

If you have ever screamed, lamented, whispered or pleaded this sentiment I am here to tell you right now to do something very important. Trust that God is showing you the answers you yearn for. But just don’t trust. COMPLETELY trust God right now in this very moment.

I know it’s not easy at times to do so. Heck, I know it’s not easy many times in our lives to trust God, but trust is the very thing God asks of us. And I have come to believe that a trusting heart is what brings a loving smile onto God’s face. Now who wouldn’t want to make God smile?

Years ago, when graduating seminary and beginning my search for a church to serve, I found myself being courted by two completely different churches in two completely different areas of the country—one rural; the other not rural at all. My heart was set on the not rural at all church. Turns out I wasn’t alone. The church had many applicants to choose from. I made the cut and was in the top five of candidates chosen.

When I finally interviewed at the church something strange happened. I didn’t “feel” it. I just couldn’t see myself there. I fought that feeling as this was the church everyone wanted. What was wrong with me that I wasn’t wanting it? A few days later my bags were packed and I went to the rural church to interview. I went just for the fun of it. Something to do. A new place to see. When I interviewed at that church, something strange happened as well. I felt it. I could see myself there. I fought the feeling as this was a rural church. Who would want to go there?

I wish God would just show me…

I fought all desire to keep pursuing the job that looked good to the world and I did my best to trust God and soon found myself an accidental country pastor who fell in love with a way of life and people that I never knew I could love so much. This isn’t the end of the story.

Just recently I found myself in the area of the other not so rural church that I thought I wanted to be at. I never thought I would be in that vicinity again, but there I was. As I drove, my fingers clenched the steering wheel tightly as I tried to maneuver through traffic that felt like a Daytona racing track. Cars were weaving in and out of the many lanes and trucks zoomed past me. As I got closer to my destination I noticed it was filled with one housing development after another. The developments were given bucolic names such as “Whispering Farms” and “Old Orchard Lanes.” They were anything but bucolic and much to my disappointment there were no farmlands or orchards to see.

It was then I remembered my plea to God to show me the way so many years ago when presented with two different ways of life. I trusted God completely with the way that didn’t make sense. And now years later, God was showing me the beauty of His leading. I was given a glimpse of what my life could have been. God was showing me His plans in making me an accidental country pastor. (Well, not accidental in God’s eyes!) God was giving me a gift to understand better who I really was.

I turned the car around. It was time to head home, back to that way of life I never knew I could love so much.

I wish God would just show me.

May this be the day you put a huge loving smile onto God’s face. May this be the day you completely trust God. For God will show you…the way, the answers, the reasons for why things happen the way they do.


On the way home to the accidental country pastor’s house. 


Columbus Day Nostalgia

I woke up feeling nostalgic about Columbus Day. Yes, of all days, Columbus Day, that peculiar holiday (I use the term “holiday” loosely) in which growing up sometimes we kids would have off from school and sometimes we wouldn’t. Sometimes my father would have off from work and sometimes he wouldn’t.

Time off for this day was never consistent and the lack of consistency only added to the ambiguity of what this day meant and how it was to be observed. The only sure thing was that banks and post offices were closed for a day that nowadays is also fraught with questions of political correctness. Columbus wasn’t the first to stumble upon America and what about the indigenous people stumbled upon?

I wonder. Do school children even make paper plate boats representing the three that were part of Columbus’ expedition? Let’s see, there was the Santa Maria and the Nina…what was the name of the third boat?


A view from the porch of the new “old” house where I often drank in God’s beauty every morning.

I woke up this Columbus Day with nostalgia almost on par with that of Christmas. But I wasn’t reminiscing about paper plate boats. My mind tripped five years down memory lane to the crisp autumn morning when much to my surprise I heard the rumbling of a pick up truck coming up the dirt road that led to the house I was living in at the time. It was a colonial reproduction that I wasn’t too happy about all because the floor boards weren’t slanting with age, there were no gaps in the door and the wind couldn’t whistle through the airtight new windows. I had made a mistake in buying this new “old” house for it just didn’t have the charm of old-house problems.

Anyway, that Columbus Day I was out on the porch watching the early morning frost melt off of the tall grass in the field that was just behind the stonewall which separated the properties. I often came outside to drink my coffee but on this particular morning I was taking in something way better than caffeine. I realized I was consuming God’s beauty and I couldn’t get enough of the morning frost, the tall grass, the maple tree in the yard that was on fire with color…and now a surprise day off with my not-yet-husband who jumped out of the pick up truck announcing a very special day in store for me. We were going to look at engagement rings!

I stood on the porch feeling like a little girl on Christmas for I had given up on such a day as this. Too much heartache and too many losses had finally led me to surrender my hopes and dreams to God. In fact, just weeks before this man now standing before me came into my life I had a heart-to-heart talk with God. I realized I was really happy with my life in this rural community and that there was nothing more I wanted than to serve God as a minister. I actually had the audacity to tell God it was okay if He didn’t send me that partner in life I had been lamenting for nine years, to be exact, since the loss of my boyfriend in a jeep accident that began my journey in faith I was now on. As if God needed to be told it was okay.

I was driving home from church when I was having this talk with God. The sun was setting over the fields, casting a warm glow over the cows that were munching away on the grass. In the background was a tree line displaying the most beautiful colors of fall that I have never seen before. The trees looked almost heavenly. That’s when I started crying for the joy I was seeking in my life never left me. Joy was still alive and well in my heart. I realized that night there was no better medicine for the brokenness in life than that of God’s handiwork as seen in nature. For how could my heart be downcast when always surrounded such beauty?

God, I discovered on that isolated country road to seemingly nowhere, is always taking us somewhere. We just need to look beyond ourselves and beyond whatever circumstances in life holds us down. We need to keep our eyes focused on the goodness of God that is always right in front of us just waiting for us to finally recognize it—waiting for us to finally say to all that we have, even when it doesn’t seem enough or not what we had planned out for ourselves, “Thank you, God.”

I was definitely saying, “Thank you, God,” that Columbus Day five years ago as I jumped off the porch of a house complete with stonewalls, fields sparkling with melting morning dew and trees singing the praises of God, and into the arms of a man who wanted to spend his life with me—an accidental country pastor who had had her heart broken one too many times. And in the brilliance of a picture perfect New England fall day I saw something even more brilliant. I saw God resurrecting a prayer long thought to be dead. In the crunching of the leaves, we walked hand-in-hand to the pick up truck and down the dirt road we went. It was the best Columbus Day ever.