Traveling down Interstate 35 near mile marker 106 in Kansas you'll find yourself in the Flint Hills. I love this open space of rolling grasslands. The grasses display an array of colors that never ceases to fascinate me. The undulating plain goes on forever in all directions interrupted only by the occasional tree or livestock.
There is a point as you head south on the highway that the otherwise straight and predictable roadway disappears into the gentle curve of the land. Look into the distance and you can see where it emerges from the hills and continues on its way.
To me the highway is a metaphor for life. We make our plans and head on our way, but life throws an unexpected obstacle in our path. The thing may appear to swallow us whole. Our vision may be limited so that we may not be able to see our route. The best we can do is move forward always trusting that we will come through this thing. The way will become clear once again, and we will continue on our journey. We only have to trust.