Copyright 2017 Kimberly Nettuno
In October of 2015, I attended a retreat. I have since worked every one, two to three times a year. There is one problem: every time I attend, I become ill. I always thought it was bad luck. The illness was so bad, twice, I thought I had contracted the flu. The accompanying pain increases every time I volunteer. Two weeks ago, during my sixth attempt, the headaches became unstoppable and unbearable. I left knowing I would not return. This realization weighed heavy on my heart.
The diagnosed illness is an intense allergic reaction to mold. The treatment? I can no longer be a part of something I was sure was the will of God or not in the way I desired in my heart. How does one proceed when His will becomes unknown?
We look around. Are there not always detour signs guiding us around closed roads? Yes, we can lose sight of the signs for a while and end up traveling into unknown territory. But, no matter where the journey takes us, there is the opportunity to find God. I can feel the warmth of his smile upon our arrival. And, although I am not sure where my journey will end, I will allow that warmth to pull me forward.
This poem’s inspiration comes from these many paths we travel. While some propel us forward by the knowledge of His will, there are those that bring us to perceived dead ends. Don’t let your journey end; look for the crossroads of His desire for you and all will become clear.
Is that You I hear?
The path here leads to You,
so, of course, I do.
The path becomes jagged;
I continue to fall;
wait, do I still hear your call?
Narrow road no longer paved,
I know how this ends.
I must ask, Lord, what do you intend?
Dead end, I now stare,
what would you have me do?
Thicket ahead, no way to push through.
Is that you who calls?
Questioning My path leading true,
so, of course, I do.
Your road will be rocky;
you will continue to stumble,
please, know I will never let it crumble.
I must narrow the road,
she will perceive an end,
hear Me now, for this is what I intend.
Dead end, look around My child;
you stand only at crossroads,
My decision now bestowed.
A thicket never stands
attracting your stare,
but leads you to that which I make clear.
One path cut short,
not a journey, you see.
All roads you take will forever lead to me.