Country Roads

A year ago, I met a dreamy country boy named Rick. He’s rugged and manly. He builds houses and does landscape designs for yards. He knows how to fix stuff. He plays the piano, sings like an angel, and writes his own music.

Oh, and he’s also a teacher. I think he’s a descendant of Superman or something.


Anyway, fast forward a year, and we’re married. I’m now Mrs. Superman, living at the halfway point between Podunk and Hooterville. I have a big, beautifully landscaped yard and a pond with perch and catfish and various other critters I’d rather not discuss. I have a chicken coop.

I am now a country girl.

Oh, yeah.

I’ll give you a moment to pick yourself off the floor. Three . . . two . . . one.

So, despite the fact that I love country living, it does have its challenges. Especially for someone who is directionally disabled. In order to get to my house, I have to turn on multiple unmarked county roads, which have as their only landmarks, trees and cows. And since the cows move, I can’t really call them landmarks.

So far I’ve gotten lost going to WalMart. I’ve gotten lost going to the nail salon. I’ve gotten lost going to my new in-law’s house. All very important places to find.

Mr. Superman gives great directions, for a guy. Clearly, though, he hasn’t mastered the special needs of the directionally disabled. He says east, and I picture a map in my head. When I look at a map, east is always to the right. So to me, east means right, west means left, north means go forward, and south means turn around. I have never grasped the concept of looking at the sun to determine which direction to go. Trust me, you don’t want me searching the skies for the sun while I’m operating a motor vehicle. Not a good idea at all.

What I need is some girl directions, with pictures. “Turn left at the barn with the Texas Star painted on the side.” “Turn right at the mailbox that’s shaped like a bass.” Which leads me back to my original problem: there are no such landmarks on many of these roads. Just trees and cows.

And my GPS is no help, either. Oh, she’s great when it comes to the major roads. But the poor thing isn’t any better than I am when it comes to these backwoods dirt pathways. More than once, I’ve ended up on some stranger’s private property at her instructions. Good thing country folk are friendly. And patient. They don’t even laugh at me until I’m out of sight, which I think shows great character on their parts.

My new friend Kellijon, who is also a transplanted city girl, offered some brilliant advice. “Buy some bright red bandanas and tie them to fence posts and voila. Landmark.”

Sometimes life keeps us on the major highways. I like those journeys. Black, white. Wrong, right. The pathways are clearly marked with enormous signs, and if I get lost, all I have to do is ask the Almighty GPS, and He will lead me back to where I need to be.

Other times, though, we end up in unmarked territory. That’s when we must rely on the sun, or the Son, to guide us. We slow down. We ask for wisdom. And we pray for a patient country boy or girl to show us the best path. Sometimes, we have to get out and tie the bandanas ourselves, with His guidance.

One thing I’ve learned, He always provides what we need. Sometimes we may have to examine our surroundings or our circumstances more closely before deciding on right or left, but if we take our time, seek His directions, and listen with our whole hearts, He will lead us out of the woods and onto wisdom’s path.

In the meantime, I’m headed to WalMart to buy some bandanas. I just hope I don’t get lost.

“I instruct you in the way of wisdom and lead you along straight paths,” Proverbs 4:11.


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