As we pulled out of the driveway, my mind raced through a mental checklist of last-minute items I hoped we hadn't forgotten. This was it. The point of no return.
Before leaving, we prayed for protection, guidance, and discernment. We asked God to direct our steps and make our path clear. At the time, conversations with Him still felt mostly one-sided, so I leaned heavily on impressions and emotions. A deep sense of peace felt like a green light. Anxiety felt like a warning sign in the form of a gut punch.
Looking back, God was patient with me. He was teaching me to recognize His voice, even if I was still learning the language.
The excitement inside our vehicle was contagious.
Glancing in the rear view mirror, I saw two happy children, ages six and nine, completely content with the adventure unfolding around them. Unlike most road trips, there were no constant questions about when we'd arrive. They already knew we didn't have a final destination.
For them, the journey was the destination.
They had music, snacks, open roads, and two parents who were saying yes to an adventure.
Meanwhile, I had at least an hour before our first stop to figure out where we were even going.
Every time I opened the map, a fresh wave of panic washed over me. Planning each step as we went felt reckless. Yet somehow I remained convinced that if we kept following the next breadcrumb, we'd end up exactly where we were supposed to be.
What no one knew was that I was quietly falling apart.
The fever that nearly stopped our trip had broken, but it left behind something far worse. Painful sores covered the inside of my mouth. Eating hurt. Drinking hurt. Talking hurt.
At first, I assumed that was the extent of it.
It wasn't.
The same condition had begun affecting other parts of my body as well, turning even the most basic daily activities into a painful reminder that something wasn't right.
Stress has a funny way of making itself known.
And as we crossed state lines toward Kentucky, my body was about to demand attention whether I wanted it to or not.
Looking back, I can see that I wasn't simply chasing a destination. I was chasing certainty. I wanted confirmation that I had heard God correctly. I wanted proof that our sacrifices weren't in vain. What I didn't yet understand was that faith rarely comes with a detailed itinerary and there's a difference between responding to God's invitation and trying to manufacture God's timing.
Companion Thought:
Sometimes faith feels exhilarating at first because movement is easier than waiting.