It was a storm much like the ones we've been having here lately, the wind howling in furry, and the driven snow forming white ripples on the road. The car wasn't exactly speeding through the constant whiteouts, but at least we were making some progress. There was a blizzard going on in my soul as well, and I admit I was making even less progress with it.
The situation started because our son, who had wandered halfway across the continent to the West Coast, had decided to hitchhike back home to Ontario, but the weather stopped him at his aunt and uncle's home in Washington. He had done what our kids always did when they needed a ride. He had called home.
And his dad, being the typical soft touch that he was, had done what he always did. He had said, “OK, we'll come and get you.”
When we left home that December morning the roads were fine, and they stayed that way for most of the 36-hour drive.
The weather was a bit stormy while we stayed for Christmas and New Year's at my brother's home, but it was OK the day we left. We had decided to break the homeward journey by stopping at a church where my husband was invited to preach and then heading straight home from there.
Bruce preached a wonderful inspired message that day. The service was beautiful, and the people were gracious. They gave us a generous love offering and sent us on our way, but by then the blizzard was well underway. My husband and son had studied the map and I was sure they would take us home the quickest, shortest way possible, but that didn't happen.
It took a while for me to realize that we were heading well out of our way down a more southerly route. I was upset. No one had said anything about the change of plans to me, and I was offended. If they had asked my advice I would have told them to stick to the shortest, fastest route possible. But they hadn't asked.
The nasty snowstorm that we faced on their chosen route didn't help my attitude any. I sat and sulked as my husband struggled to keep on the road. But then the Lord began to do what He always does. He spoke to my conscience. “Don't you trust your husband enough to believe I can direct him?”
I began feeling convicted. I fully believed a husband should be the head of the home, but, but, “But he just based his decision on the opinion of our son,” I argued uncomfortably, but He continued to speak.
“Would it have been all right if he had listened to your advice instead?” The question struck me. Was my opinion more important than being submissive, and trusting God to direct my husband? Did it really matter who He used to nudge him in the right direction?
Suddenly I was ashamed of myself. I had trusted my husband to listen to God's voice for the message he had preached that morning, but I wouldn't give him the benefit of the doubt for something as simple finding guidance for directions home. What kind of a wife was I, anyway? My storm was over, and I smiled up at my husband to encourage him.
It wasn't until late that evening that I found out what could have happened if my husband had gone my way. We had decided to use some of the love offering money for a motel room to wait out the storm. We turned on the TV to check the weather, and what we saw shook us up. The roads I would have chosen for us were all being closed because of terrible ice storms that had already caused a number of bad accidents.
I was humbled that day, but it was a lesson I will never forget. There have been many times since then that I have had to trust God by simply trusting my husband. And even now that my husband has been robbed of many of his cognitive skills, I know that I can still trust God to help him find the path through this horrible storm in his life.