The first one was sweet. The second was dear. The third felt like deja vu. The fourth landed like a message I needed to hear.

In four separate conversations this week couples have told me that they first started dating when they were sixteen. As in acne, homework, and first dance jitters. Each of these marriages have ripened for somewhere between thirty and fifty five years. Most of them were around twenty when they held hands and swore to never let go. 

I let those images find purchase in my mind, as I listened to the stories of working on the school newspaper, navigating different colleges, taking care of first their children, then their aging parents and grandchildren.

Being in their presence made me feel like life makes sense. Even people too young to vote can be led on the right path. Some of them described growing up together, of not knowing how they would figure it out, of little money and less certainty. 

The other day I drove Benjamin to yet another new therapist. I didn't look up the directions on Google Maps, the way I used to, or check a paper map the way I did before that. I jumped in the car and plugged the address into my phone and Siri told me what to do. She did not burden me with the sixteenth turn as I was just starting out. She handed me one step after another, and I followed. When I made a wrong turn she patiently got me back on track. Astonishingly, we arrived at the driveway of the right office precisely on time, and Ben and I walked through the door. 

I thought about how God is willing to give directions. Not because He thinks we are stupid, or incapable. But because He longs to bring us to happiness He explains the next turn just as we need it. Not necessarily much before we get there. 

It could be argued that a sixteen year old has no business falling in love. Or that a twenty year old is unqualified to make a life long commitment. 

But it cannot be argued that God is unable to get us to the right door if we listen.