A Torn Map Isn't a Broken Map

She sat at the table a wallet or something set next to her arm. She looked as if she was in the early stages of her older years, yet I only remember that looking back. She was wearing practical clothing. Nearly everything about her seemed pleasantly normal and commonplace. Her hands were mildly worn: her nails plain. She had a dark, ruddy complexion and normal life, everyday wrinkles. She wore a hat, I want to say a fishing hat, but honestly, I don't remember.

Yet, one thing stood out. In front of her lay an old tattered map that had been torn in two. When I brought her food - a simple dish, filling and hearty but with no frills or fanciness - she had the two halves lined up and was slowly trailing her thumb across some route, whether a mountain chain, river, or road I'm not sure. I interrupted her concentration to set the food down and ask whether there was anything else I could get her. She looked up, quickly but not rudely said thank you and that that was everything, pulled her food closer, and immediately returned to her map.

She didn't look as if she were the kind who seeks adventure for the sake of itself. She looked as if she were someone who lived her life and consequently had adventures. She didn't look particularly conscious of her adventurous looks, and truly, without the map, I wouldn't have noticed them either. It wasn't even that she had a map in front of her. It was that the particular map she had, had apparently been on it's own explorations, had been bruised and battered, and had still lived to show it.

I'd brought her food, and I'd continued on with my tasks, but something had stayed in my heart. I don't want to wait until I grow up to be like her. I want to learn to be like her now. I want to live life and consequently have adventures. Instead of seizing up with panic when life throws me a new experience, I want to take the tattered map that I do have and plot out my course of action. I don't want to stay in my home zone of comfort simply because I don't have a brand new, shiny map with everything I should ever need to know. I want to do what I can, the best that I can, with the map that I do have. I don't want the fear of the unknown to stop me from climbing the next mountain, crossing the next stream, or swimming the next lake. If I have a better map so be it, but if I don't, so be that.

May I always be brave enough to tackle my adventures. May I always have faith enough to believe that even though my understanding of my Christ map is battered, old, and torn in two, the actual map is like new. That's what matters.