Taking the Time to Make a Difference

She told me to start by going down the street near the hotel. What she said and what I heard were two different things. One of the most memorable events of a vacation in eastern Europe was the time I got lost in the medieval city of Pecs, in southern Hungary. There are many good memories from this trip, but not many of them are as vivid. Our family group had arrived at the hotel in mid-afternoon, in a walking district at the center of the city, where no cars are allowed. After we lugged in our suitcases and everyone had checked in, I asked the clerk where I could park our car. The lot was just a short distance away, she said, maybe a five minute walk, near another hotel, easy to find. She gave me directions: go down the street, turn left at the second intersection, continue for several blocks and turn left again. Look for the sign. I walked back to the car, turned it around and went down the hill, turned left, continued for several blocks, turned left again – and found no sign of anything that looked like a hotel or a parking lot. I tried variations of the pattern – going to the next intersection before going left, going several more blocks, and so on. Still there was no hotel, no parking lot in sight. The problem started getting more dramatic as I drove on one-way streets that seemed to have no partner street going back the other way. I remember a cartoon character insist that he was not lost, even though he did not know where he was going. He said he was not lost as long as he knew where he had been. It did not take long for me to acknowledge in truth that I was really lost. I didn’t know where to go, nor had I any idea how I had gotten to where I was. I didn’t even know where I had been. I parked the car and tried to ask people for help. I found a lot of people – one here, two or three there -- but we all had at best, only a very few words in common. Finally, a man and a woman walked by, took pity on me, and gave me clear directions to get back to my starting point. But as I turned to walk back to my car, they shook their heads and called me back. Their directions were good only for walking, not for driving. They didn’t know how to drive there. I eventually found my back, where I started all over again – and then gave up, asked directions from a woman who told me I was really lost and that the hotel I was looking for was in the opposite direction. I think she was speaking French, which I can’t understand, but her animated gesturing was as expressive as it needed to be. I found the hotel, parked the car, found my way on foot back to where we were staying, and was reunited with my wife. How could this have happened? It was the word “down” – as in, “go down this street.” What the clerk was trying to tell me was that I should go “along” this street. Excuse the bad pun, but when I made my first mistake, it was all downhill from there.

* * *

Two things I learned from this experience. One, I know what it feels like to come to a strange land, where signs and language are difficult. And even though it was only for a few hours, I know what it feels like to be separated from my family. The second thing I learned to appreciate is the promise of Jesus, that he is the way, the truth and the light. Perhaps my faith is stronger because I am one who has been really and truly lost, who had to give up self-reliance and trust another and another and another until I found the way.

* * *

Take the time to acknowledge the times you have been lost – in whatever meaning that word “lost” may have for you. Recall how you found the way. Do what you can to help others on their journey from uncertainty to surety, from darkness to light, from isolation to communion. You can make a difference.

Send your comments about "Taking Time to Make a Difference" to . Contact about subscribing for your newspaper.