Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Lost in Lynwood: true story
Yesterday I was happily on my way back from my ortho appointment in Lake City. Ok, it wasn't so happy. I had an adjustment, three new rubber bands on my teeth, and I hadn't eaten anything but a banana all day.
Anyways, I was on my way home. I decided to be adventuresome and take Lake City Way back home. Just to be different. (Ach!)
So I turned up by the LFP mall and went up that road... but I turned off it accidentally (my first mistake) and 45 minutes later I found myself in Lynwood. Eventually I found 164th and got onto I-5 south (after two failed tries at actually getting on the freeway) and got home. A twenty-five minute trip took me an hour and a half.
There is nothing quite like the semi-desperate feeling you get while winding through unfamiliar residential areas in Snohomish county, after all. Or just going and going feeling, blindly trusting to God that all double-yellow-lined-roads lead to 99 or the freeway.
I said aloud while in the grips of unease (Yes, to keep from getting too freaked out I started talking to God aloud. And yes, it did keep me from freaking out): "God I don't know where I am (ahhh!) or how I got here (ahhhhh!!!), but I know where you are."
It was the truest thing I had said all day. I also said "What a good story this will be when I'm not in it anymore!" That was true too.
Maybe you can guess the end of the tale, though... My ecstatic thankfulness when I pulled into my own driveway. My wolfing down of a scone and a bowl of cereal. My Mom's bemused laugh when I told her. My Lord reminding me he was with me at home too, and always/forever!
Anyways, I was on my way home. I decided to be adventuresome and take Lake City Way back home. Just to be different. (Ach!)
So I turned up by the LFP mall and went up that road... but I turned off it accidentally (my first mistake) and 45 minutes later I found myself in Lynwood. Eventually I found 164th and got onto I-5 south (after two failed tries at actually getting on the freeway) and got home. A twenty-five minute trip took me an hour and a half.
There is nothing quite like the semi-desperate feeling you get while winding through unfamiliar residential areas in Snohomish county, after all. Or just going and going feeling, blindly trusting to God that all double-yellow-lined-roads lead to 99 or the freeway.
I said aloud while in the grips of unease (Yes, to keep from getting too freaked out I started talking to God aloud. And yes, it did keep me from freaking out): "God I don't know where I am (ahhh!) or how I got here (ahhhhh!!!), but I know where you are."
It was the truest thing I had said all day. I also said "What a good story this will be when I'm not in it anymore!" That was true too.
Maybe you can guess the end of the tale, though... My ecstatic thankfulness when I pulled into my own driveway. My wolfing down of a scone and a bowl of cereal. My Mom's bemused laugh when I told her. My Lord reminding me he was with me at home too, and always/forever!
