It took me until at least my late twenties to learn that my way is not the only way. Not only is it not the only way, it's often not the best way. This was a humbling lesson for me. It didn't happen overnight, nor can I trace it back to one specific event. But the fact of it is carved into my psyche, and I'm glad for it.
Yesterday afternoon Henry and I took a walk through the flooded fields. We went up the hill at the north end. From the top of the hill, I heard the falls. Knowing they would be swollen with all the recent rain, I just had to go. I also knew that I couldn't hike down to them safely with a twenty-two pound kid strapped to my back.
Running perpendicular to the falls we came to see, I spied some NEW falls. Perhaps they are only made visible by the higher water, or maybe it was the new way we came that forced them into my view.
I couldn't get to them though, the river being too wide right now to safely cross with a baby on board. I will go back for them soon, though. Count on it.
Just another lesson learned, another reminder served.
Take your time. Try another way. You never know what you will find.