If you take a look at my photograph of the stairway to nowhere, you see there is a light at the end of the tunnel. While in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, I forgot to look up at that yesterday. I was still looking down until just a short while ago. It was a long night, a long day, and filled with ups and downs and edge of your seat drama. There were phone calls back and forth all day to the participants in our operation of intrigue and other glitches tossed in to turn my stomach.
My effort at doing something to facilitate a good deed with the help of a couple of other people was not without turmoil and mystery, anxiety and joy. I don't know of too many things that matter in my life that don't come with the spectrum of such emotion. I should have counted on it.
But the day is behind me now and while the outcome has been different than that which we intended, it turns out that above all, love came through. The participants (willing givers and intended recipients) in this ever thickening plot, although pulled headlong down the stairs and piled together at the bottom in a heap with me, could also be found with huge smiles on their faces and not a few tears of appreciation in their eyes. They could see they were loved enough to be taken on this joy ride, despite the glitches in the plan. Our adventure became the gift of love that it was intended to be, even if not the gift of a tangible item that we had hoped for when we began. And each of us received something, the intended givers and the intended receivers alike.
So I was on my way to somewhere; it only looked like nowhere from the middle of the mess. I don't think there really is such a thing as nowhere, except maybe in my own imagination. I’ll try to remember that next time. Meanwhile, never underestimate the power of an open hand to the One who sees you there on the dark stairway. I find Him always willing to replace the fumblings I hold out to Him, with a gift of His love. It's a worthwhile exchange.