The long way home is sometimes better than the easy way

The weather that was threatening to come never came until late in the night, early this morning. At first making me question why I had travelled halfway across the country with multiple delays to get back home when if I had stayed with my original travel plans, I would have gotten home without all the hassle I went through.

Questioned why my instincts did not tell me I should stay where I was rather than fleeing and getting myself so exhausted from delayed flights and missed sleep. Questioned why I did not hear from the Universe that changing my plans was not the right thing to do. Beating myself up for being so worried about getting home that I probably did not listen to my gut telling me everything was going to be okay. Berating myself for reacting too quickly to news of bad weather from others rather that trusting myself to do what I had to do.

But then in the middle of the night when the thunder crashed and the lightning flashed and the rain beat down on my window panes, I finally understood why I went through what I had gone through to get home. Like the fierce lightning flashes outside, a bolt of inspiration and understanding flashed through me.

I knew the reason why I took the route I had to get home was because I was feeling really guilty about missing my children doing their events. Missing my son getting ready for his expedition this weekend. Missing my family. Well when I got off the airplane fully expecting to take a taxi home, there waiting for me outside and the first face I was was my husband. Lifting my spirits in ways he could not imagine.

I had been so tired when I got off the flight that the last thing I wanted was to have to make small talk with a taxi driver. All I wanted was the comfort of my home and my husband delivered that by being there waiting for me. Gave me my first reason for abandoning the easy way home to take the more difficult road home.

And then as we drove home, we spotted our son in the midst of his friends, loaded down with his backpack taking a break on a hill. Allowing me to roll down the window and shout out, “Hello son,” Waves of relief flooding through me to see he was okay and had done what he needed to do without me. Seeing his face filled with confusion as to how his parents were able to drive by him. At first too perplexed and embarrassed by our drive by to comprehend how we had managed to do pass him before the relief I was back home hit him allowing him to snap out of his confusion in time to shout back at me, “How was your trip?” Always the considerate son he is deep down inside. The experience of seeing my son when I was not expecting to see him until this afternoon was reason enough for me to take the long road home rather the short one.

And then I got home with the house to myself as my husband went back to work allowing me the time and space without feeling guilty about spending time with anyone to fall into a deep, deep sleep. My whole being telling me I needed to rest. Giving myself the permission to rest without feeling guilty because there was no one at home that I needed to talk to just me and rest. I slept for hours recharging myself.

My husband going to pick up our daughter from school so I could rest some more. And then when she came home, she came into the bed with me, resting her head full of curls in the nape of my neck. Her warmth and love spreading through me. Her pleased face that I was home enough to make the long journey home worth all the effort I had gone through. Worth giving up the easy way home for the more difficult way.

And so in the middle of the thunderstorm, high winds and the pounding rain that did not come when I thought it would but came much later on, I realized though I could have taken the easy path home, the more direct route, had I done so I would have missed out on all the wonderful surprises and treats that were waiting for me back home.  Allowing me to understand my gut had been right all along to take the long route home so that I could receive the gifts I received yesterday that were waiting for me to make the decision I had.

Telling me that sometimes the long and most difficult path home is the best path to take because at the end of it we appreciate more and open ourselves to receive more than when we always take the easy and most expected path. So happy to be home. So happy to have chosen the long and arduous route home rather than the easy one. Because I realized more than anything, we are always where we are meant to be. Always. Namaste.