There was a labyrinth at church this week. I walked into the opening with a light step, letting go of any need to direct my own path. The lines would show me, and all I had to do was follow. Others were walking too, and sometimes I would notice that they seemed closer to the center. But I declined the invitation from my lower self to succumb to jealousy. It was not a race.

Benjamin was walking it too, and twice we passed each other headed in opposite directions. We slapped palms and kept going, neither of us needing to correct the other. 

It was a comfortable few minutes, allowing myself to be led. As a mother I spend a disproportionate amount of time deciding things. What we eat, where we will go on vacation, what color to paint the living room all fall under my jurisdiction. Yet there are days when I just want to have someone else choose. When I walked the labyrinth I released my grip on the steering wheel of life if only for a short time. 

It felt like a rehearsal for when I will actually hand my marriage over to the care of God. Even if I abruptly change directions, or appear to be making no progress, can I trust the one who laid down my path?