Although most of my classmates from 1975 have not been literally wandering in the wilderness, certainly there have been some meandering paths. One woman actually drives an eighteen wheeler hundreds of thousands of miles each year. Others have moved, changed careers, divorced, and staved off cancer with every ounce of strength they could muster. 

The book of Exodus describes the forty years that the Children of Israel traipsed over the desert on their inefficient path to Canaan. At the end of four decades, they were finally allowed to step into the promised land.

Does this imply that they outgrew the need to be lost? 

A friend told me that she prayed before both her twentieth and thirtieth reunions to be able to connect in a meaningful way to a classmate she had never been close to.  But it didn't happen. Then at their fortieth they had a heartfelt and honest conversation. It might be tempting to waste energy wishing that the interaction had come sooner. As often as I have scolded the Children of Israel in my mind for disobeying God and therefore being stuck in a detour, perhaps the journey ended when it was meant to.

Maybe what I think of as a detour is simply the scenic route.