I'm trying to make peace with the part of me that has fizzled. My imagination longs to leap and bound the way it used to, creating and imagining in a glorious, beautiful way. But right now there is a sad little voice inside me that keeps stopping the happy child with these words:

"But it's not real."

Yes, I know it's not real. That's the point. It's beautiful and colorful and vivid. It's magical.

"But it will never be real. What good is it?"

God made me to write stories. I know He did. That's the good of it. Maybe not right at this very moment. Maybe I need to get back into stories first.

--

Last night I was driving to find the Advent Film Group folks at the Tiggises, where they were shooting for their next-to-last day of filming. Last week I had tried to find them there, but the roads in that area are exceptionally confusing. The other day, I finally gave up after driving in circles. Thursday, I didn't want to do that.

So I bumped along the gravel road to what looked like its end. Apparently, according to the signs at the corner, it "T'ed" into a different street. This is where I had turned around in confusion twice on Saturday. This evening, since I had checked the directions on an online map, I knew that the road was supposed to continue at this point. I could only assume that the sign at the corner was misleading. So I turned right.

After a little while, I realized that I was indeed on a different road. I pulled off onto a nice gravel spot at the side and called some of the AFG people whose numbers were in my cell phone. Nobody answered. And then, only after I had exhausted all my own understanding and resources, I prayed: "God, help me find my destination."

I turned around and started back up the road. I came to the same corner again. But this time, I noticed something. From this new direction, I could see that the sign for the original road actually stood at a slant. It pointed down the road I had not yet tried. With an incredible feeling of elation, I bumped onto more gravel. Before long, I had found the house and the AFG people.

God spoke to me last night. What He told me was this: Sometimes the only way to travel in the "right" direction is to look at it from the perspective of the wrong one. In which case, it wasn't the wrong direction at all. It was a necessary part of the journey. If I had turned around again at the ambiguous corner or frozen in fear, I would never have known.

So long as I am trying to follow the map, I am free to make any decision I please. God won't let me go in the wrong direction for long, and He will always teach me something along the way.  ¶ 8:33 AM