The Winding Path
Shenandoah National Park… “ a land bursting with cascading waterfalls, spectacular vistas, fields of wildflowers, and quiet wooded hollows.” Stonyman is one of the many short hikes manageable for my husband Nick and I and our autistic son Jonathan, who has Down Syndrome. He’s a strong young man, but sometimes needs a little extra assistance. He balks at the unsteadiness he feels on the rocky path, so help from our son Matthew and his wife Mya is welcome.
It’s been years since we’ve been here. The top overlooks the Shenandoah Valley. This time of year, the barren trees give us an unobstructed view of the ridges and valleys folding off to the right. A brilliant blue sky and softer breezes than usual feel more like early spring than mid-February. It’s only a 1.5-mile loop, so after a gentle uphill climb, the open sky peaks over the rise before us.
“We’re almost to the top!” I call out confidently.
“Don’t be so sure!” counters Nick.
He’s right. Rather than continuing straight up to the summit, the path veers left, straight into a fairy tale land. Shorter, weathered trees with crooked branches hold tight to the side of the mountain. Lichen-covered rocks pile up next to a small fissure that falls away downhill. It feels old. Enchanted. Round the next bend, mountain laurels crowd in as the shaded path dips down. I’m reminded of Frodo, who “stood awhile still lost in wonder. It seemed to him that he had stepped through a high window that looked on a vanished world.”
At last, a final bend and short path open to the top. Pleased visitors chat and lounge across the large rock outcropping. While Matthew helps Jonathan maneuver to a comfortable resting spot, we drink in the panorama of the Blue Ridge. Finally, buffeted by stronger winds, we head back down.
I have time to reflect as I make my way back down carefully. The past few months have been spent in long-term planning for our son Jonathan. The future has weighed heavily on me. Any move to be closer to children is complicated by each state’s disability rules and services–it can take months to years to qualify. Our family is wonderfully supportive, but it’s just too soon to make any definite plans yet. And so I, the one who wants to plan everything down to the last detail, am left with an uncertainty that can drift into worry.
Walking this path with its surprising twists is an object lesson from the Creator. If reaching the summit of Stonyman is like planning Jonathan’s future, what can I learn? Getting to the top is a worthy, rewarding goal. But when the path took unexpected turns, I encountered beauty. Beauty that rivaled the summit view. Surrounded by old stone and weathered trees, I felt comforted. Sheltered. In fixing my eyes solely on the summit, I might miss the breathtaking turns in the path that I can’t anticipate. Trying to short-circuit the process and head straight up the hill only makes it harder. I am reminded to trust.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” Prov 3:5-6
So I choose to rest in the assurance of God’s love for us both now and in the future. “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived”— the things God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Cor 2:9. I purpose to appreciate the beauty of our life along the way, as we encounter unexpected turns in our path. I wish I could state this as a settled matter, but it requires an ongoing relinquishment of control. And perhaps Nick and I may end up like that weathered stone and wood, made more beautiful by what has buffeted us, able to stand because of God’s gracious design and care.