Where In Sam Hill is...Sam Hill?

So I got this to-the-point comment from a great blogging buddy the other day. Basically, she just wanted to know where in the “sam hill” I’ve been lately.

So now I’m inspired to share.

Right now it’s 3:30 am, {as in morning} and I’m in the family truck headed to Texas. Our quad cab is stuffed to the door jams with favorite pillows, cuddly teddy bears, overflowing food bags filled with junk food we don’t ordinarily eat (and a few pieces of fruit thrown in for “balance”). We have no less than five large travel coffee mugs (for only two adults, mind you)… and it’s all surrounded by windows full of obscurity…except for the reflective white lines that disappear into it.

We’re somewhere in Alabama right now, and I have to tell you, since there is nobody else awake in this state besides the few of us on the road, it feels more like we’re running on an oversized asphalt treadmill rather than actually going anywhere.

Now don’t get me wrong, Alabama is a beautiful state…with all its rolling green hills and tall, thick evergreens. It’s just that I can’t see any of that right now. All I can see is pitch black all around, and a relatively short portion of road illuminated before us. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of another’s presence on the journey, but all I see are headlights. Or taillights. I can’t see who’s in the vehicle, where they’re going, or what they’re doing to stay awake. All I know is they are either ahead of me to some degree, or maybe coming up behind me, or just plain going in the opposite direction.

Some are even pulled over on the side of the road, resting.

We have guidelines to follow that show us the way, signs posted to alert us to what is up ahead, and the capacity to decide if we’ll stay on the road, obeying the directions, or suffer the consequences of veering off road.

I’m struck with the parallels of life here: Limited view. Sometimes, a WAY limited view. The necessity of following the written directions established by the Authority…or face impending danger if they are ignored one too many times. Occasional glances into the journey of others; and the stillness, perhaps even brokenness of a few along the way.

Sometimes it feels like I’m running like a dog, but not actually going anywhere. Tonight is reminding me that it’s all about perspective. When I’m 75, am I really going to feel like I didn’t go anywhere? I don’t think so. Because by then, I’ll be able to do something I just can’t do now: see the journey as a whole.

Right now, I can only see a few feet in front of me. All the time. That’s why it feels like there’s no progress. But those white lines were painted on my road before the foundation of the world. That’s something one can trust.

Lord, help me keep my eyes and my heart focused on what You have given me to do with this life You have redeemed.

I guess this is one of those “life is like…” posts. But you know what? As long as the journey takes me to the closest Whataburger once in a while, I’m just going to enjoy the ride.