The Way Home

My Dad is nearly 89 years old and is battling dementia. In many ways he talks and acts like a little boy again. He asks the same questions over and over and I find it hard not to become impatient.

Last night I took Dad & Mom to a dinner at Hesston. Hesston is about 50 miles from home and the way seemed very long to Dad. He kept asking where we were going. The road we wanted to take was closed so we had to make a detour. "Are we still going to Hesston," Dad asked, "we are going the wrong direction." I assured him this road would get us there, although I wasn't sure myself where we were at. And it did! We arrived somewhat later than planned but still in time to enjoy a delicious meal. Throughout the meal Dad kept saying, "Don't forget we came with you. Don't forget to take us home." I tried to reassure him that I would not forget.

It was dark as we started on the homeward journey. "Do you know the way home?" Dad asked. "Yes, I do," I replied with confidence, for I felt more sure of the way home than of the way going. "Do you know on which road to turn? Do you know where our driveway is?" he continued questioning. I assured him that I did. And so he settled back to enjoy the ride. But not for long! Once again I heard his voice pipe up from the back seat, "We are a long way from home, do you know the way home? Do you know which is our road?" "Yes, I know and I will take you there," I assured him again. "I'm sure glad you're driving and I'm not, because I have no idea where we are at," was his honest reply. And once again he settled back into his seat.

But the way seemed long and the night was dark and it was hard to feel at rest. Once again he peered into the darkness and saw no familiar landmarks. "Do you know the way home? Are we almost there?" I heard once again. "Yes!" I replied, a trifle less patiently. "Why don't you take a little nap?" I continued. "It will make the way seem shorter." This idea seemed to fly over his head as he continued to peer into the darkness for some clue as to where we were. The questions continued coming and I was relieved to at last pull into the driveway and announce triumphantly, "We're home!" "Yes, now I know where I'm at!" was his glad reply.

I had to think how much I'm like that with God. The way seems long and dark and even though I know God is at the wheel and he knows the way home, I begin to doubt and start to question, "Do you know the way home?" And I cry, "I can't see! I don't know where I'm at! Are you SURE this is the right road??!!" And God so tenderly replies, "Yes, I know the way and I will take you there. Just rest and enjoy the ride. I can see even when you can't." And so I settle back in my seat, but then...I start peering out the window and it looks so dark and nothing looks familiar and I start to fear and cry out, "Where am I? Is this the right road? Aren't we almost there?"

And I wonder...does God ever feel like I do with Dad? Like telling him to quit asking questions and just trust me, I know what I'm doing? I don't know... All I know is how patient and tender and loving He is with me and I'm SO GLAD he knows the way home!