Cross Roads

I’ve been praying over this season like a woman standing where two roads meet — one familiar and well worn, comfortable beneath her feet, the other stretching out toward land she’s never lived on before, full of wild possibilities and the unknown.

I’ve been asking the Lord,

Which way is forward?

Which path leads home?

Because sometimes obedience isn’t loud or impressive — sometimes it’s a quiet leaning in, a heart turned toward Heaven, listening for the next small yes.

And lately life hasn’t made much room for quiet reflection. In fact, I started to wonder if maybe I was missing His voice in all the noise.

Meanwhile, my boy has been reading Joshua. Every morning he spills the stories across the kitchen table like marbles — battles and bravery and God keeping His word. I half-listen while rinsing dishes, nodding between tasks, not knowing Heaven was circling something holy around me.

Then came the thrift store moose.

Thrown in a bin like it had lived its life already. But my boy saw treasure where others saw discard. He picked it up, hugged it close, and named it — Joshua.

And that little moose started following us everywhere. Riding shotgun in the truck. Sitting beside him at meals. Tucked under his arm at bedtime like a trusted friend.

Joshua. Joshua. Joshua.

The name kept brushing past me like a breeze I didn’t stop to feel.

Until this morning.

After I finished praying — really praying, the kind where your heart lays itself out plain before God — I opened my eyes and there on the table was the name Joshua printed on an old postcard, propped against the table like it had been waiting for my eyes.

And it leapt off the page.

Not softly.

Not subtly.

It hit like an aha that makes you sit up straight.

Like the Lord saying,

Now you’re listening.

So I opened my Bible to Joshua.

And the whole first chapter read like an answer to questions I hadn’t even finished forming yet. Every verse felt personal, like the Lord was steadying my feet Himself.

And then my eyes landed on it:

“The Lord your God hath given you rest, and hath given you this land.” — Joshua 1:13

Rest.

Land.

Given.

And it settled into my soul like rain on dry ground.

Because we just stepped into new land.

A new path.

A crossroads season.

And I’ve been asking if this was wise or rushed or truly Him.

But a weary heart knows the sound of water when it hears it.

And that verse felt like water.

Maybe God doesn’t always shout directions from the clouds.

Maybe sometimes He circles the same word around you until it roots deep enough to be recognized.

Through a child’s Bible reading.

Through a toy moose.

Through a name on a paper.

Through a chapter you finally open with opened eyes.

So if you’re a tired mama standing at your own crossroads, wondering which way is forward…

Maybe the invitation today isn’t to figure it all out.

Maybe it’s to notice.

To open your eyes a little wider.

To soften your heart.

To tune your ears for His voice in places you’re not used to listening.

Because sometimes we get so busy looking for a burning bush

that we miss the Lord writing His answer on the table right in front of us.

He is speaking.

In the carline.

In the kitchen.

Through your children.

Through repetition that keeps tapping your shoulder.

Not every word from God comes in the quiet.

Sometimes it comes wrapped in ordinary days and thrift store moments.

So slow down long enough to see.

Lean in close enough to hear.

Open your heart enough to receive.

The Lord is faithful to answer —

and often He’s been answering long before we realize we’re listening.