THE HOLY DETOUR

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 158

Howdy, friends.

Let’s just pause for a second and acknowledge the miracle: Southwest Minnesota was actually perfect today. I’m talking blue skies so deep they look painted, fluffy white clouds that belong in a Pixar movie, a gentle breeze, and temperatures in the low 60s. Best of all? Not a single mosquito has checked in for the season yet.

I found myself bargaining with the Almighty: “Hey God, can we just lock this in? No humidity, no blizzards, no searing heat... basically San Diego vibes without the property taxes? Please?”

The 100-mile loop: It’s all a matter of perspective, but I felt like the luckiest man alive spending hours winding through the countryside on this picture-postcard day. Today was "old people day." Now, don't send me emails—they call themselves that, and frankly, at their age, they’ve earned the right to call it whatever they want. As you know, I relish these 100-mile loops to visit our shut-ins. There is a specific kind of grace found in a living room chat that you just can't find anywhere else.

By midafternoon, I had wrapped up my visits. My brain said, "Back to the office, Jason. There are emails to ignore and a sermon to begin fretting over." But a smaller, more insistent voice whispered: "Detour? You’ve never actually seen Albion Lutheran. Let’s let Siri lead the way."

Sixteen miles and five turns later, and there she was: a glorious countryside church. I wanted to pull in and wander the grounds, but the lot was packed—likely a funeral. It didn't feel right to intrude on a family's "see you later," so I kept rolling.

But then, just a stone’s throw away, I saw it—a hidden gem of a different sort. An old barn, weathered and gray, leaning into the wind and falling on hard times. It was tucked into a grove of trees with the kind of soul that begs for a black-and-white landscape print. I could see the shot in my head: a wide-open aperture, some creamy bokeh blurring those budding leaves into a soft green haze, and that jagged roofline in sharp relief.

Note to self: Never leave the house without the Canon R6 and the 70-200mm lens again. Or the 24mm. Actually, I just need me a pick up truck. That'd help. Hahaha!.

A half a mile later, I pulled a u-ee, stirring up a cloud of gravel dust as I headed back toward that 150-year-old chapel. It’s a masterpiece of worship, built in 1871 by Norwegian settlers. Finally! A Norske church in our neck of the woods. Sorry to my Swedish, Finnish, and Danish friends, but us 'wegians have to stick together.

I pulled the "old girl" onto a grassy shoulder, put her in park, and whipped out my PhotoPills app to mark the GPS coordinates. I had a second epiphany: this is the spot. Imagine that towering steeple under a canvas of star trails or the Milky Way spilling over the roofline, bringing a different kind of glory to the foreground.

As I made the short drive home, I realized these two gems were sitting less than 12 miles from my front door "as the bird flies," and I might not have seen them if I hadn't listened to that nudge to deviate from the plan.

I had to giggle. I spent an hour on a "detour," thanking God not just for the weather, but for the permission to be inefficient.

In a world that demands we go-go-go, getting off the beaten path is more than just a scenic route—it’s a soul-refreshing necessity. That old church wasn't just a building; it was the icing on the cake of a day already filled with good visits.

What are you thankful for today? Have you taken any "holy detours" lately?