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Crossing the Street


When my sister Erika and I were seven and eight, we lived on Indiana Avenue, right off Grand Avenue, a busy street in Waukegan, Illinois. 

The other kids on Indiana had a much shorter walk to school than we did. They’d walk to the corner of Indiana and Grand, scurry across Grand, stroll a block to Lorraine Avenue, and then march a mile down Lorraine to Hyde Park Elementary. 

The Enis kids, however, weren’t so lucky. When we hit Indiana and Grand, we couldn’t cross Grand, but had to trudge about half-mile past Lorraine to the corner of New York Street and Grand, where the crossing guard would escort us across Grand. 

Once we finally crossed Grand, we hiked our way back down to Lorraine, and then headed toward Hyde Park. 

Our parents sent us on a detour not so other kids could tease us—though tease us they did—but to protect us from zooming traffic and reckless drivers. 

Likewise, there are times when God sends us on detours not to hurt us, but to help us. But if we stay the path, if we trust the process, we’ll end up where we need to be, where we’re supposed to be, when we’re supposed to be there.