These days in Tennessee, autumn festivals are in full swing. Though each town gives them different names—Apple Festival, Pumpkin Festival, Storytelling Festival—their purpose is the same: to share the blessings and harvests of the year, and to nurture warm human connection. Among the many joys of these fall gatherings, one tradition stands out: the corn maze.

Once you enter, it’s hard to tell where it begins or ends. The vast forest of corn feels like stepping into a hall of mirrors. As you walk the narrow paths, you come to forks—three ways, four ways—each demanding a choice. You hesitate, pick one, walk for a while… only to find it’s a dead end. Though it’s hard to abandon the path you’ve already walked, you must turn back to find a new way forward.

As I wandered briefly through the cornfield, I couldn’t help but think of Melissa, my neighbor who has been navigating the maze of life with remarkable courage. Ten years ago, at the age of 32, she was diagnosed with tongue cancer. The doctor’s prognosis was grim: surgery or chemotherapy, with life or death hanging in the balance. She chose chemotherapy. Thankfully, five years later, she was declared cancer-free. Though the treatment left her with blocked salivary glands—making speech and swallowing difficult—her freedom from cancer made every hardship bearable.

But last year, the cancer returned, this time advancing to her larynx. After multiple life-threatening surgeries, she lost her tongue, her voice box, and part of her lower jaw. She could no longer eat, drink, or speak. Her body, marked by skin grafts, bore the scars of survival.

And yet, Melissa continues to learn how to live each day in new ways. She connects with the world through text messages and her computer. She receives nutrition through a feeding tube, learns to knit and make necklaces, takes care of housework and laundry, and leads charitable fundraising for cancer research. At church, she serves as head of the worship committee. Through her text-to-speech device, she shares this testimony:

“It’s true—my life has changed. But I’m learning that change isn’t always bad. Through all of this, God is teaching me patience and revealing things I never knew before. God provides exactly what I need each day. Though my body still needs healing in many places, I don’t want to live in retreat or boredom. More than ever, I feel a growing hope for the future.”

A growing hope! What a courageous and beautiful confession of mature faith. In the maze of life, this may be the highest choice a fragile human can make.

As dusk fell over the cornfield, someone came striding toward us. It was the towering owner of the field, worried about our group and coming to find us—just like Jesus, who comes to seek the lost, wandering souls in life’s great maze.