When You’re Not as Stuck as You Seem
Sometimes it isn’t who you know, but who you don’t know.
Even in October, arid heat gripped Tarragona, Spain, well into the late afternoon. The GPS sent us snaking through back streets into a semi-residential construction zone. With parking on both sides, even our compact car barely squeezed through—until we reached the barricade.
It was basically a long metal sawhorse, painted with alternating white and orange reflective stripes. It was waist high, wider than our car, and it completely blocked our way forward. With more traffic behind us and tightly packed cars parked on both sides, we saw no way to back out or turn around. No signs had warned us ahead of time that the road was closed, and no signs directed us to an alternative route. We were trapped.
My husband and I looked at each other, confused and slightly panicked. Since our first “road trip” for work two years earlier, we’d become used to being lost in unfamiliar places. Yet Erik had mastered driving even in Italy, which made driving in Spain and France seem like a relaxing joyride, and I’d become better at sorting out which direction seemingly arbitrary arrow signs actually pointed.
When we first got the GPS, we felt unstoppable. But since the navigator didn’t recognize new construction, we still got lost. A lot. Every other time we’d been lost, it was because of too many possible routes. But this time we couldn’t see a single way out.
That’s when she appeared. She looked at least eighty, and her short, slender frame slumped slightly. When I see her in my mind’s eye, frail is the first word that comes to mind. She looked at us, and then at the barricade. Then she began crossing the street in front of the barricade, casually picking it up and carrying it and her couple of shopping bags as she went. When she reached the other side of the street, she set down the barricade, nonchalantly, and kept walking without a backward glance.
Erik and I stared at each other again, this time in total disbelief. I don’t remember verbalizing it, but the look that passed between us said, Did you just see what I saw? She was the last person anyone would expect to help them out of that tight spot.
We didn’t know if the barricade meant the road ahead was impassable, but we had no choice except to try. Thankfully, we saw no trace of construction after that. Our lane was clear, and palpable peace and awe hung in the air for the rest of the drive.
In an instant, we went from being stuck to being free.
I often think about what that woman did for us. I felt sheepish when I realized either of us could have left the car and moved it ourselves (although to this day, I’m not convinced I could have hauled that thing out of the way as effortlessly as she did). But that never occurred to us.
We were trapped because we thought we were trapped. We assumed the road ahead was impassable. But from where she stood, the barrier we saw no way around was barely a setback.
It’s like that with many obstacles in life. When you’re in the thick of a dilemma, you often don’t see the obvious solution. The right connections can help, but it takes someone who sees beyond the problem. Someone who can advocate for you. Someone who can show you the truth: you’re not really trapped.
Sometimes, seeing beyond a problem doesn’t involve wisdom or discernment, or anything else we might feel we’re lacking. Sometimes it just takes a slightly different vantage point.
Or it might mean setting aside assumptions. We were convinced the barricade meant something. We assumed just because it was there that other barriers lay ahead. From where the woman stood, she could see the barricade was nothing more than a minor obstacle to be cleared.
I think about how often I do this. When minor trouble arises, I jump to conclusions and imagine I can safely anticipate more trouble. I make all kinds of assumptions about the road ahead that limit my problem-solving.
And when someone else is stuck, I forget what a gift my slightly different vantage point could be to them. When we aren’t in the thick of a dilemma, we’re free to think outside the box on behalf of people who are. What if I took the time to really see them and take a simple action on their behalf?
What roadblock are you facing?
What assumption would you be willing to reexamine?
For whom can you clear an obstacle?
is an Israeli who’s at home in France, Italy, and Minnesota. A homemaker who had it all, gave it all away, and lived out of a backpack. She loves one man, 5 kids, and the crazy story God is writing in their lives even more than palm trees, ancient ruins, and deepest dark chocolate. She writes, coaches, speaks, sings, and creates her guts out at hannahkallio.org.
Photograph © Michael Rosner-Hyman, used with permission
