A pillar of salt and an inviting dirt trail

I always thought Lot’s wife got a raw deal during her family’s escape from Sodom before God destroyed it. All she did was look back, and for that she became a pillar of salt? Her punishment seemed kind of harsh. I think I always envisioned her look back as a glance over her shoulder as she fled for her life, kind of like she was checking to make sure the fire balls weren’t landing too close. But now I realize her look back must have been one of sorrow and regret. I think she was looking back with longing. She must have been unwilling to leave what had become comfortable and move forward. In that context, becoming a statue was her choice. She was caught forever between her past and what could have been her future because she couldn’t stop looking back.

I spent a lot of time last week thinking about the dangers of looking back. I’m not afraid I’ll turn into a pillar of salt, but I am aware of how easy it would be not to move forward. As I’ve already mentioned here, my husband dubbed last year the “Year of Freedom.” Life was easy, fun and comfortable. We chose to leave it all behind in search of a new adventure, but some days it’s really tempting to spend more time reminiscing about the past than taking steps toward the future.

It’s like we were cruising down a nice, wide two-lane highway when the entrance to a beautiful and intriguing dirt trail caught our attention. We slowed the car and looked at the narrow dirt track. It didn’t look dangerous or even very difficult. It was just wide enough for the car to fit through without scraping the mirrors, if we were careful. Lush greenery obscured the path after a few hundred yards, where it appeared to turn deeper into the forest. But the parts we could see were breathtaking, covered in bright, fragrant flowers. It looked so inviting. So, we took the plunge, exiting the highway and driving slowly onto the trail. We put the windows down so we could enjoy the flowers as we drove by. But just as the entrance to the highway disappeared behind us, the trail narrowed. It was full of ruts and potholes. The car almost got stuck several times. We had to get out and push. The flowers disappeared, and suddenly I began to wonder whether we made the right decision. It was so tempting to look back toward the easy road we left behind. Our trail might widen out around the next turn, but it might not.

Last weekend, James and I went back to Texas for his parents’ 45^th anniversary party. We stayed in Galveston and saw all the people we’ve missed so much during the last two months. I anticipated and dreaded the trip, knowing it could be a major setback in our determination to build a new life in Atlanta. Nothing much had changed on the island. It was like we never left. But I wasn’t filled with the homesick longing I thought might overcome me. I’m obviously not yet tired of the daily struggle to put one foot in front of the other in search of what’s coming up around the next turn.

I think Lot’s wife must have believed the best part of her life lay behind her. She couldn’t see the possibility in what was before her. She missed a great opportunity to learn something new and be thrilled all over again. I’m still enthralled by future possibilities. I’m willing to push the car down the dirt trail when it gets stuck because I don’t want to miss something I never would have seen from the highway.