The Shortcut That Wasn’t

Photo by Sasan Hezarkhani on Unsplash

My dad was famous for his shortcuts. They usually took far longer than the traditional route and we teased him at every opportunity. We later learned his not so short shortcuts were more of the scenic variety than a shorter route, which was his intention all along. However, others, including Google, said the cutoff through Christmas Valley was shorter than the route we normally took to my hometown in southern Oregon. What they didn’t say was that while it was shorter in miles it was not shorter in time.

The road wound through beautiful mountains covered in pine and fir trees and peppered with rich green valleys. Bare of all habitation. Not realizing there were no amenities once we left Burns, Oregon, we didn’t bother with stopping for a meal. We had snacks, but those only go so far.

About halfway to our next turnoff, we found a small convenience store. As my husband climbed out of the truck, his legs buckled. Thank goodness he caught himself. If he had fallen, I would never have gotten him back on his feet without help. At 79 years old, his joints stiffened if he sits for too long. Even with frequent breaks, our long trip took a toll on his older body.

By the time we reached our hotel at 9 pm, twelve hours from the time we left home, my husband was incoherent and unsteady on his feet. I recognized the signs of low blood sugar and urged him back out to the truck. At that late hour, there wasn’t a lot of food choices around the hotel, either tacos or hamburgers. At least the latter had enough carbs and protein to bring his blood sugar back up to normal levels.

The next morning, we felt like we had hangovers, but we couldn’t sleep in and rest. I had to be at the church by 9:30 am to help with the setup for my mother’s memorial service.

Although the reason for our gathering was sorrowful, it produced a miracle.

Due to some misunderstandings, my three kids have been estranged for years. I have prayed for years for a reconciliation. As I descended the church steps, I witnessed my eldest son and my daughter embrace. During the luncheon, all three of my kids sat together with their spouses. This miracle brought more joy than I can describe. Sorrow brought us together, but joy left with us.

My dad’s penchant for scenic drives had a purpose, as did God’s delayed answer to my prayers. Without the experiences we encounter on the way, we would not be prepared for the joy at the end of our journey.

With God, a patient wait often leads to a happy ending. Amen.