While reading about Abraham this morning, I thought about my life. I am on a faith journey. What else can I call it? I hear no voices guiding me. I see no written notes left on my desk. I don’t smell bananas or apples. The fruit smell would lead me somewhere. I have no compass. So I don’t know in which direction to go:East, West, North, South. I have no map to fold up and put in my car. I only have myself and God. God through His Word will guide me. First, I have to begin reading that Word, meditating on that Word and praying over it. What is a Faith Journey? Do I know? At the moment, I don’t know anything.
I think a Faith journey is one on which we get lost. For example, It feels very dark, as dark as a dessert night. If I make one more step, I will fall over a dune cliff. I stand still. I can’t stand still forever. I turn around and walk away from the edge of the cliff. Now, there are two forks in the road. I feel they might be the same ones Robert Frost mentioned in his poem. However, it is my choice whether to go down the left or the right. I wait. I listen. I hear a dog bark. I hear the wheels of cars in the distance. I hear a bear turning over a trashcan. The bear makes me move five steps forward quickly. I take left fork. The one where there are still purple wildflowers glowing in the dark.
On a Faith Journey, there is also loneliness. None of my friends or relatives wanted to come with me. As a matter of fact, they decided to stop visiting me. They call me “crazy.” My cousin said, “have you lost your mind?” You’re going to ride across country in a broken down 1990 car. You’ve never driven farther than five blocks down the street to the bigger supermarket. You’ve got to have lost it. I oughta call the people from the mental hospital. “Tell them you need restraint.
I don’t laugh. I feel that he is right. A stay in a hospital on lock down. Because I am acting like a total fool. It’s odd. I know my words and actions don’t make sense. Don is right. I’ve lost it. Still, I don’t intend to end this Faith Journey. I’m going. I’m going to take my Bible, a notebook, a pack of ten with those different color highlighters, and my dog, Fresno, and we’re going across country. Maybe I will take my rabbit foot. That’s just an extra helper. I don’t think God will mind. I call my best friend, Tony. I try to explain what I’m doing and where I’m going. He says, Gracie, if you don’t allow me to go with you, I’m ending our friendship. You’ve been weird ever since you called yourself a Christian. Woman, you don’t know how to change a flat tire. You don’t know if the tire is flat in the first place. And you always have trouble getting gas. You’re memory is bad too. You need a helping hand on this journey.”
“You left out something. I’m Dyslexic. Did you forget?” Then, I forgot all my religion and hung up the phone. Next, I put my head down and started to cry.
Now I know a Faith Journey can make enemies. Tony holds grudges. It would take him forever to get over the fact that I had hung up on him. I would go through three pilgrimages and he would still be angry. Maybe I should give up, forget about it. This Faith Journey stuff was alright for Abraham leaving Ur. It’s not alright for me. I’m feeling more than anxious. I’m plain frightened. No telling what could happen. Some crazy man, a serial killer, might kill me. My mind could see every type of spooky drama in color like on the movie screen. I fell asleep on my knees. I dreaded the next morning. It would be my first day on the road.