A Different Course

A man’s heart plans his course, but the LORD directs his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9 HNV

My cousin told me she couldn’t go on our usual walk on the farm this morning. Although disappointed, I decided to go alone. I needed the exercise, and it would give me some time to pray. I had a lot on mind lately. With school starting soon, I fretted over the new course I’d been assigned to teach. The subject is not familiar to me. I will have to crack the books and watch slews of videos to be prepared, which means giving up a few of my precious remaining days of summer break to devote to it. That, I resented.

I donned my sneakers and set out for my usual course along the Chaptico Bay. Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I passed my cousin’s house and made my way through the barnyard. Then I stopped dead in my tracks. What! My passage through the pasture was cut off by an electrified fence.

Divine Design

Show me Your ways, O Lord, teach me Your paths.—Psalm 25:4

The students were chatty that September morning, as we rode the school bus en route to a local college.  I couldn’t blame them.  It was a beautiful morn, and I was excited too. Just a handful of my high school students had been selected to participate in a poetry workshop directed by a college professor.  All of us hoped to hone our budding talents, myself included.

I peered out the window at the disappearing landscape and caught glimpse of a strange sight.  Translucent films appearing to hang in mid-air!  A stop at a traffic light allowed me to closely examine the curious sight.  What I thought was hanging in mid-air, I soon discovered, was actually suspended from power lines—spider webs!  Dozens of them!  Why have I never noticed this before? I wondered.  And then I realized that morning mist clung to the strands, reflecting the sunlight, and only because of that was I able to see those glorious intricate designs.

From the Nest

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.  I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”—Isaiah 46:4

Time for another coloring, I decide, examining my reflection in the vanity mirror, my silver strands decorating my head like tinsel on a Christmas tree, reminding me that I’m not getting any younger.  I wipe the sleep from my eyes.  But I can’t wipe away the wrinkles—or the knot in my stomach.

Slipping two slices of bread into the toaster, I somehow know that breakfast can’t ease the ache either.  Christmas goodies line the counter, but overindulgence isn’t the culprit for the pain.  Handmade by my daughter and step grandsons, the desserts serve as a reminder of the happy time we shared just four days prior, my tiny cottage bursting at the seams with eleven loved ones squished together on every square inch of my well-worn furniture, shreds of gift wrap and “Ooos” and “Ahhhs” flying through the air.

Not a voice can be heard this morning, though—unless you count the occasional whine from Kobe the dog, who misses them as well.

Some call it the empty nest syndrome. I call it loneliness.  All my children are on their own.  Well, almost.  My youngest is due to marry in a couple months.  Meanwhile, she’s in college—and the college bills are coming my way, adding to my already overwhelming stack of bills for her sister’s education. With the number in my household dwindling along with my finances, I’m struggling in more ways than one.