About 3 weeks ago, my wife and I were in Chicago and we decided to take our last day there to visit the Lincoln Park Zoo. It’s free, it’s nice, and it was relatively close to our hotel. By relatively, I mean a 5 minute ride on the “L” train and about a 15 minute walk from the station. We hadn’t walked too much this trip, so it was a welcome stroll.
The problem came with our ignorance of entrance: namely, where the actual zoo entrance was to be found. On the map, there was simply a big, green area labeled “Lincoln Park Zoo.” From our past year’s memory of the place, we thought that the entrance was on the farthest south side. With this in mind, we set out on the most direct route from the subway station, and that was N. Lincoln Avenue. Never mind that the actual entrance was multiple blocks north of our trajectory, we hoofed it faithfully to the end.
Suffice it to say, we made it to the zoo, enjoyed our time there, and took a much better, more direct route back to the subway.
Going back to the long, long, long walk on N. Lincoln Avenue, though, I remember one thing in particular: the overwhelming feeling of being lost. You see, N. Lincoln Avenue is a peculiar kind of road. Where as most streets and avenues run north, south, east or west, N. Lincoln Avenue ran none of these. Instead, whomever concocted this strange little road elected to go with the oft-neglected diagonal approach. So, in the midst of a system of up and down, left and right, we have on road that went completely against the flow.
And it completely ruined my flow.
The way there wasn’t too bad. I knew that we just stayed put on the same road the entire way. Multiple 3-road intersections are admittedly a bit strange, but it wasn’t a big deal.
The way back, however, really threw me for a loop. Having to navigate a downtown setting with one diagonal road is strange, but as it turns out, there was another diagonal road we had to contend with…N. Clark Street. You can imagine my difficulty trying to remember which way we were actually headed at any given time! Thank God for Google Maps!
So the story ends and we got back safe and sound. But I started thinking about walking on these diagonal roads and the shift in perspective that happened almost completely without my noticing. You see, when walking on a path that is so different than all the surrounding ones, your brain begins to process things a bit strangely. Case-in-point, at every intersection we came to, I had to remember that our trajectory was the exception and the street being crossed was the rule. From my vantage point, it didn’t seem that way, though.
From my perspective, it looked like all the other streets were diagonal. And as strange as it would be to lay out a city in all diagonal streets, that’s what it felt like.
Because this was my path. This was my world.
And it’s all about me, right?
The staggering reality here is that’s exactly how we view life a lot of times, isn’t it? We have our path and our goals. We have our road that we walk. And when we cross paths with others who aren’t in line with our systems and ways of understanding, we discount that as strange and abnormal…even if the same abnormalities keep popping up. We just grit our teeth and move forward, so sure of our journey.
But what if our perspective is off? What if we’ve made things so concrete in our minds, but in reality they aren’t so sure. What damage could come from that? What turns might we miss. What wisdom might we never adhere to?
How lost may we find ourselves?
There’s almost always two sides to every story. There’s almost always another way to see things. There’s always a bigger picture. May we be open to see that. May we be open to see the larger things God may be doing around us. May we be willing to admit that it’s our road that’s askew, our perspective that is bent, and ourselves that may need the corrective turn.
..:: Robby Payne ::..
