Providence Road

Providence Road leads me on towards toil and rest. It is a beautiful respite, but the view of Southern brick and draped foliage cannot disguise my heart's discontent. Once again, the 30-minute drive assumes the role of a confessional.

The tank is near empty, but I am rushed and unable to stop at the next station for fear of the timeclock clicking past 6:45. I contemplate numbers in my head and am assured I will make it to work on ample fumes. My thoughts tend to bounce in random trajectories on these evenings. Prayers are uttered, but the windshield offers distractions that evade my amens. Half prayers: a testament to the weakness of the flesh and human mind. Silly distractions pulling us away from a divine blessing. I detest the weakness.

But Lord, tonight, my presence will be missed. He'll wash and dry the dishes, he'll supervise bath-time bubble wars, she'll snuggle with him while she drinks her warmed milk. He'll enter bed alone.

He forgives my absentmindedness. Grace abounds as I begin to count each green banner displayed alongside the journey, as if this arterial stretch was named so for my sanctification only. His providence is evident in this moment, on this road we are traveling. He assures me that oneness is not sacrificed, failure is not inevitable, our home is protected under much greater power than our own. Yes, He understands this heart beating within me. He knows. Tomorrow morning, I will return and find rest.