Many years ago I was invited to join the family deer camp in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. It was a great honor and a bit intimidating as well. The camp had been in existence for over 70 years with a rich heritage. It was closed to all but members and guests. On November 13th I was sitting in the passenger seat of a pickup truck headed north armed with an old shotgun, at least three times the equipment I needed and an old boy scout compass.
After a 10 hour drive and an overnight stay in a small hotel in town we headed into the woods toward the cabin. We parked the trucks and walked the last mile to camp to set up and get ready for opening day. One of the first things I was given was a photocopy of a hand drawn map showing the trails and critical landmarks. My instructions were to carry the map and my compass at all times. Because the cabin is 2 miles off the main road in the middle of hundreds of thousands of acres of heavy forest, wandering a mere few hundred yards from camp could get me very lost for a very long time. I still think they were less concerned about my well being than losing precious euchre and beer time if they had to go looking for me.
Sure enough, on the second day of the season, while on a stroll, I got lost. Considering it was a pleasant day for northern Michigan in November, sunny and low 50s, I was in no real danger. The only thing at risk was my pride and I knew the verbal beating would be brutal and sustained if I needed rescue. In order to avoid certain shame I hauled out my map and compass and attempted to figure out where I was and how to get back. It took me hours to get un-lost for a very simple reason. Compasses and maps are only good if you know where you currently are. I could see the cabin on the map as well as other critical landmarks…I just could not see myself. Using dead reckoning, and some good guessing, I arrived back at the cabin, tired and hungry, 2 1/2 hours later.
The next year I decided to take a brand new GPS unit with me. I figured if I could mark the location of the cabin I would always know what direction to go in the event I got lost again. I did have the sense to play with it before I needed it so I eagerly opened the packaging and inserted fresh batteries. Turning the device on I noticed it not only took a long time to acquire satellite signals the big arrow would only point north regardless of the direction I turned. In frustration I took a couple of steps to see if it was getting a clear signal from the sky. Immediately the needle swung to the east and began pointing in the direction I was traveling. I had found a limitation to the technology. You see, GPS only knows where you are on the planet and the direction you are headed…if you are moving. If I had refused to move until I had clear and concise directions I would have assumed the unit was defective and returned it for another. Further, for a GPS unit to work properly you must tell it where you want to go and that means you have to program in coordinates or mark a location when you get there. That meant I had to have help getting back to the cabin the following year so I could tell it where the cabin was before I set off into the woods. The good thing was that when I wanted to return all I had to do was click a couple of buttons and the big black arrow would point me in the direction of the camp.
Life can be a bit like that GPS experience. There are times when standing still can lead to frustration and confusion, it can even be dangerous. There are times when, even if you do not know what direction to go, you must start moving in any direction to get your bearings. Only then can you make course corrections. Additionally, you must also know where you want to end up for the trip to be more than aimless wandering.
At times we all must make a blind move or two to gain vision.
