There once were three men on a long and weary road. Each was already injured.

One had blinded his eyes by staring long at the sun.

Another had gone deaf from straining to hear danger before it came.

The third had lost his voice from boasting that he knew the way to everything — even to the wind.

All three were lost. When they met at a crossroads, they agreed to travel together, trusting that their combined strength might guide them home. They chose the only path none of them had yet walked — a narrow, quiet road that wound peacefully through the trees.

Because the road was narrow, they walked in a line.

The blind man carried the provisions at the back.

The mute man walked in the middle, linking the others.

And the deaf man led, for he could see and speak. This is also why he carried the map.

After a time, the blind man asked, “How far do we have to go?”

The mute man tapped the deaf man’s shoulder. The leader turned and saw the blind man’s lips moving. “We’re good,” he called back.

The blind man frowned. “How far?” he asked again, louder.

“We’re good!” came the same reply.

The question echoed a third time, now as a shout. Still the deaf man refused to look back.

“We’re fine! Just keep going!” he barked again.

“Fine is not a distance!” the blind man snapped, stumbling forward until he caught the deaf man’s shoulder. “How far is good? Give me a number — one, two, three! I need to know!”

The deaf man scowled. “I don’t even understand you! But the map says we’re fine, so we’re good!”

“I’m the one carrying the supplies,” the blind man argued, breathless. “Shouldn’t I know how much longer?”

“I have the map!” the deaf man shot back.

“Then read it!”

“I am!”

“But you obviously can’t!”

“Well, can you?”

“No — but I can feel how heavy this load is!”

Their voices rose. The once peaceful road filled with noise.

On and on the men argued. The mute man shuffled his feet, debating on leaving the noisy men. 

They were not moving and would soon be caught by the dark. Then, as he shuffled, he spotted something brown behind the trees to their right.

At last, the mute man stomped toward them, waving his arms to get their attention. When they finally turned, he pointed ahead. Through the trees stood a small cottage, hidden in the forest’s green foliage.

“What’s happening?” asked the blind man.

“There’s a cottage,” said the deaf man, glancing at the map. “It’s not on here…”

The mute man nodded in agreement and motioned with his hands — around five feet away — for the deaf man to repeat 

“Thank you for finally answering,” the blind man muttered.

“What did he say?” the deaf man asked.

The blind man opened his mouth, but the mute man gently turned him toward the path. He tapped the blind man’s ears twice, then crossed his arms in an “X.”

Shame warmed the blind man’s face. Without a word, the mute man took half the provisions and started toward the cottage. The deaf man followed with the rest, and the blind man came behind.

Silence settled again over the forest — deeper now, and wiser.

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Lessons learned in traveling:

For the mute man: Beware insisting on your right to speak when silence is wiser, for you may lose your voice when it’s truly needed.

For the deaf man: Beware trusting only what you see; wisdom listens before it leads.

For the blind man: Beware demanding others to follow your view when you cannot see the way.

For all: Arguments can blind, deafen, and silence us. Revelation is found in stillness and peace.

For the road: Wisdom walks best with humility.

“So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath; for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God.” – ‭‭James‬ ‭1‬:‭19‬-‭20‬ ‭NKJV‬‬