I drove to Montana a few months back.
It snows out there in February. Sometimes it snows so much that you can’t see where you’re going so they close the Interstate highways.
An iPhone camera sucks up more light than really exists, so in the photo my dashboard looks like it’s fully illuminated. Notice also the lack of road. Just snow and the taillights ahead of us. That almost vertical streak on the windshield is my wiper, furiously trying to push away beautiful fat flakes of snow.
I was trying to keep close enough to the oversized pick-up ahead of us to be able to follow his tracks in the snow, but far enough back so if we noticed him bumping down the side of the road we’d have time to stop. I felt that was reasonable at 20 miles an hour.
But I wondered what would happen if we had to stop — where would we pull off? There aren’t that many overpasses to hide under, or exits to exit from on the Interstate highways in Montana. And with the visibility measured in feet instead of miles, it might be a bit dangerous to pull off the invisible road and stop. So I followed that truck for about an hour before we came to an exit and he pulled into a gas station.
We thanked him for allowing us to follow him, but he reported that radar showed there were only about 20 more miles of snow and then we’d be ahead of it. I quickly computed one hour of driving at 20 MPH and accepted his offer to continue. Especially because the only hotel at that exit was closed for the season. After quick potty stops and hot chocolate milk purchases, off we went, into the wild black yonder.
About 45 minutes later we passed him at 75 MPH (the legal limit there), smiling, waving, grateful. We drove another two hours into the night while the storm passed to the south.
It was an exciting night. But also a peaceful night. Despite the conditions there was no anxiety, and there was no tension. We trusted this driver in front of us to have a better vantage point so he could see where he was going. We had a shared destination, and we both had maps.
The next day we drove through Badlands National Park admiring the beauty God plopped into the heart of the Great Plains. My car was one of two visiting the park that morning and I wondered if anyone would ever find us if we took a wrong turn. But we knew where we were going. But not because of the signs. We had a map.
Do you know where you are going? Have you thought about it recently or have you defaulted into being blown about by whatever winds buffet you? Find the One you need to be following. And even the most turbulent passages will be peaceful.