Lost

   I hate getting lost. I have to admit that I've been in that state so often over the years that you would think I would be used to it, but there's just something so terrifying about being lost to a person with absolutely no sense of direction.
   This morning, my job was to take Jim to the Reagan National Airport. That part was easy. . . nice, straight drive up Highway 1, turn right at the sign pointing to the airport. Of course, it also doesn't hurt to have the man with the most perfect sense of direction sitting in the front passenger seat. Quick kiss good-by, move out of the busy drop-off lane, and follow the sign that says 'Airport Exit'. Now, wouldn't you assume that's the correct way to leave an airport? Unfortunately, I didn't notice the small print under the exit sign that said 'North' until it was too late. And there's just no feeling quite like the feeling of finding yourself lost in Washington D.C.
   Jim's a good husband - back in the days before GPS, he always made sure I had a map in my car. What he didn't understand, though, is that a map is not very helpful to a person without the ability to know where she is. But, this is the 21st century and some wonderful people have since invented maps on little tablets with blinking blue dots that show you precisely where you are in this world! And, they even highlight in blue the route you should take to get to your desired destination! How absolutely wonderful! Except. . . when there's no internet service.
   So, there I was, praying, crying, willing the iPad to work, and watching the Washington monument get closer and closer. But you already know the end of the story, because here I am, safe at home, journaling on this blog.
   Philip Yancey's book, Sole Survivor, introduced me to Frederick Buechner who describes faith as an act of discovery, of hearing God speak, not through the miraculous or supernatural, but through the everyday, ordinary, waking up, going to work, and getting lost moments of life. "Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. . . because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace".   Grace.   I can't think of any more beautiful word. Yes, I know I'll get lost again, I'll grieve again, I'll cry again. But, at the beginning, the end, and every little blinking blue dot of every painful, joyful, terrifying moment, there's grace.
   So what do poor little lost girls do when they finally end up in familiar territory? Why, stop at Krispy Kreme of course! I feel much better now.