Bigger Picture Moment: Lost But Found

The girls and I made an impromptu banana cake for dessert last night, and despite my second helping of dinner, I still managed to devour one giant piece of cake.  Of course, I wanted another, but since I was headed to a Lenten bible study -- a place where there was bound to be a delicious selection of goodies -- I refrained. 

Plus, I didn't want to make myself late for the small group.  I've missed the first two meetings because of a tangled up mess of busy-ness.  Mostly Justin's busy-ness, which (strangely) left me either too tired to participate in group discussion (no matter how delectable the accompanying selection of desserts might be...) or without a babysitter while he was away.  Plus, I just didn't think the addition of a stress-filled attempt to attend a small group, even if its purpose was to be Lenten in nature, would help me feel more calm and thoughtful about readying my heart for Easter. 

Nevertheless, I was able to make it without any trouble this week, so I wanted to be on time.  Be a welcome addition to the group.  A thoughtfully insightful member.  An appreciative eater of baked-goods.

(Oh, by the way?  My cravings are no longer limited to salty, savory, spicy, crunchy.  Sweet bakery items are back on my radar.  Glory be.)

I kissed the girls good night, left Justin with his arms full of pajamas, and skipped lightly out the door. 

Now, I'm not the best with directions.  I get fantastically mixed up about where I am versus where I need to be, and very often, this results in Justin tricking me with short cuts and back roads just to revel in my look of confusion.  But last night, this tendency of mine to be directionally clueless was confounded by a lack of actually remembering where the house was located. 

I've been there before.  In the darkness of wintertime, several months back.  So basically, I didn't know where I was going, but since it's lighter now in the evenings, I trusted myself to find it.

Turns out, I'm not to be trusted.  I drove around a few gorgeous neighborhoods for the better part of an hour, passing the same wrong houses and the same wrong roads.  Not to mention, the sun (being up later) was shining directly into my eyes for much of my search.  Eventually, I called Justin to beg for help.  Eventually, I found the house.

The empty, dark house. 

There was nobody home.  Either the meeting was cancelled, or it was relocated to another house, but it didn't matter.  I drove home, defeated, to have another piece of banana cake. 

Strangely, I didn't cry.  It was...kind of...enjoyable.  The night was gorgeous, I was alone and quiet...well, almost quiet.  I talked to the baby a little bit, in a show of solidarity in lostness. 

The thing is, I haven't connected with this baby much yet.  Truth be told, I'm a little afraid of it.  Nervous in its presence.  (Which, as you undoubtedly know, is all the time.)  And I know it sounds weird, but last night's loooong foray into the wilderness of unknown neighborhoods helped us bond.  It was the baby and me against the world.  Just the two of us.  We were lost together, and I felt comforted somehow.

Simply put, a fruitless drive across town became fruitful. 

And not just with banana cake.

We're seeing the Bigger Picture through simple moments -- moments that force us to stop and take notice of the ways our worlds are important, meaningful, and beautiful. Please join us at Hyacynth's place today! Take a minute to focus on what's real in your life -- what's important -- and record it. Share it, visit the other participants, and let us be a part of your Bigger Picture!