Which Way to God?

“No, I can’t go. They’ll find out!”

And once again—as she had every summer since she left home 15rnyears ago—she cried.

Tammy missed just sitting on the big front porch of the
farmhouse with her grandmother, sipping homemade peppermint
tea, counting the five cars that would pass by on the road
each lazy afte
oon. She dreamed of once again whipping uprnhomemade raspberry ice cream with her grandfather for the
evening social at the town hall. She yearned to play with her
cousins in the rolling cornfield behind the old goat shed that
was their secret clubhouse in their youth.

How did I know all this? Because—as she had every summer atrnthe time of the annual family reunion in Kansas—Tammy shared
her childhood joys with me in between deep sobs of loss and
longing.

I was envious of all her sweet memories of growing up on ar
Midwest farm, raised by her two loving grandparents. But she
was fraught with despair that she “could never go home again.”
And she hadn’t written or spoken with her folks for all these
years.

Finally, I’d had enough of this regret and remorse. I implored
her, “What could possibly be so terrible about your life that
you can’t share with such caring grandparents?”

“If I go, they’ll find out that I’ve left the church!” she
bemoaned.

“Well,” I countered, “you’re still the same granddaughter they
nurtured from birth. You haven’t changed how you feel about
them. Maybe they still feel the same way about you!”

“Yes,” she replied, “they would if I was still faithful to the
church. But once they find out that I’ve ‘gone the way ofr
Satan,’ the gap would be too wide to bridge.”

I gingerly questioned her certainty, “Perhaps they could see
past your different approach to religion. You’re still
spiritual.”

“Yes,” she lamented, “but not in their eyes. In their church
anyone who wanders from the righteous path of traditional
belief becomes the disciple of the devil. I know, I listened
to this dogma every day of my childhood.”

“What if it were different now? This is 2010, not 1950.”

“Maybe.”

Ah, the door was cracked. And Tammy hadn’t shut out the
possibility that the situation could conceivable change.

The Prospect of Possibility

Lately, Tammy and I have been playing with the power ofrnpossibility. Of allowing room for something new and different
to happen in hopelessly stuck situations.

We’re both discovering that if we simply hold the space for
the improbable, it sometimes occurs. If we just choose to stay
open to the possibility that something “outside the box” might
occur, it sometimes does. Even in seemingly intractable
situations. Even “against all odds!”

The Journey Home

Inspired by this fresh approach to the desperate situations inrnher life, Tammy decides to fly to the yearly family reunion inr
Kansas. After all, she realizes, the pain of rejection there
couldn’t be any worse than the angst of one more summer ofrnimagined exile and disapproval. And she was emotionally
stronger now and actually felt some real self acceptance for
the first time in her life!

Tammy arrives just in time for the shucking of the
fresh-picked corn on the back porch of the farmhouse. She
screeches and screams in unison with all her cousins, nieces
and nephews as they rejoice in her surprise appearance! She’srnoverwhelmed with the warmth and depth of the heartfelt
greeting.

After a spell, she feels a faint tap on her left shoulder.
Grandma motions for Tammy to follow her and Grandpa into the
house to the front sitting room in which so many of Tammy’srnfondest memories dwell. The wayward granddaughter squirms
nervously in her favorite seat on the couch in which she’drnwatched old movies with Grandma. She waits for her aging
grandparents to shuffle slowly into the quaint parlor that has
been immune to the changes in time and fashion.

Facing the Music

Her folks settle in on either side of her on the divan. Each
gently grasps each of her hands. Oh, boy! What’s up with this?
A serious talking to, no doubt. Her grandparents only invoked
this hand ritual when the most grave issues were about to be
discussed. Usually she had transgressed in some way. Usually
this routine indicated she’d broken some rule. Gone far
astray.

Grandma Ellen patted Tammy’s hand and softly cleared her
throat. Tammy braced herself for the worst.

“Tammy, your grandpa and I just want you to know that whatever
way you have found God is completely fine with us. We’re sornhappy for you, my child.”

With an audible gasp of relief, Tammy broke into tears—tears
of joy!

Her exultant joy was only slightly muted with the regret that
she’d kept herself away from such love for so many years.

Hidden Possibilities

Where in your life could you be more open to the possibility
of change?

Who are you selling short in regard to their ability tornchange, to be flexible, or to love beyond all reason?