I wonder how it is that we get to the places in our lives that we call “crossroads.” We are living, moving along in our canoe of life, stuck infact, in a current that sweeps us on from one predictable event to the other. Then, before we know it, the current speeds up, there are rocks in our path. It’s not that we weren’t paying attention but all of a sudden things are happening to us. And unless we were we totally prepared for the white water, with our paddles at the ready and life jackets cinched tightly, our canoe bobs and dips and twirls a bit. Sometimes it takes on water or we tip and find ourselves grabbing for the painter rope and making sure that everyone is okay. Then we pull ourselves onto the shore, dripping and cold. Small children shivering, lips blue and grown-ups wondering why they were not grown-up enough to stop the canoe from tipping. But there it is. The tipping happened so what do you do? Dry everyone off ofcourse. Get back in the boat and start paddling. But where to? Was that current the right one? If you had gone a different way would you have tipped in the first place? Do you need a new current? And how will you keep the boat from tipping again?
I know this is all very criptic. An extended metaphor that goes too far. Sorry. It’s all I have today.