wheelchair ride

   I’m pushing one of the grandmas back to her room from playing dominoes with the others. Her mind is failing, so along the hall she wants to stop at rooms that are not hers. I don’t know why not but the foot pedals aren’t on the wheelchair. I’m silently hoping she doesn’t suddenly put her feet down while we’re rolling down the hall because that would probably cause her a small bit of pain. Or large bit.

   It reminded me of myself sometimes. If life is the wheelchair, I’m riding in it, and God is taking me where I need to go. I keep wanting to put my feet down and say This is my room. This is what I want. But God just says No not yet. Finally I’m sure we’re going the wrong way because we’re just not getting there yet and this hall is so long. I don’t want to keep holding them up. I’m tired of holding them up. Little do I realize that when I do that, there’s pain that’s sure to come. I can tell you that if someone’s pushing you in a wheelchair at a fairly good pace and you out of nowhere put your feet down, it’s not going to feel the best. But God knows where He’s taking me, just like I knew where this lady’s room was and she just didn’t understand. If she would have just decided to go in a random person’s room, she would have been confused. Not at all settled. But when we get to her room, she immediately knows it, and it’s home. When God gets me where I’m supposed to be, it’s settled that this where I’m supposed to be. I’m amazed sometimes at how you just tell them that you know where to go, or sometimes I’ll finally tell them they need to trust me and they just say OK. Can I do that, when I wonder if we’re ever gonna get there or when I just know we have to be going the wrong way? I hope so. Because God knows this hallway better than I do and He definitely can get me to the place.