Getting Lost

I used to think MY sense of direction was bad.  Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I oriented myself in the world based on that topography.  The Bay was east.  The Pacific Ocean was (just about the only thing that was) west.  The coastal range rose up above all the urban sprawl, clearly signaling "west."  Then I moved to rural Iowa where, when the sun isn't shining, I sometimes forget what direction I'm driving, because all the roads in the country kind of look the same - straight pavement flanked by ditches with cornfields/soybean fields beyond, punctuated by the occasional farmstead.

Then Emily got her driver's license.  She found her way to Cedar Falls just fine, but when it came time for her to return home, I got a phone call.  "Mom? I'm at College Square Mall.  How do I get home?"  I started to give her directions, "Go west on University until the signal under the 58 overpass, then . . . "  "Wait!  don't tell me any more.  I'll get confused.  I'll call you when I get there and you can tell me where to go next."  And so it went.  I talked her home via cell phone one turn at a time.  Her directional sense has improved with experience; nevertheless I still razz her about it.

Along comes Alyssa with her recently acquired driver's license.  She made plans to drive to her boyfriend's home in Waverly to meet some of his friends while working on set construction for their school play. Like Emily, she made it there with no problem, thanks to MapQuest.  She left to return home about 5:30 p.m., which should have resulted in her rolling into our driveway about 6:10.  Instead, some time around six, Randy received a phone call from Alyssa.  "Yeah . . . so . . . I'm in Hampton?"  She had headed directly west out of Waverly, instead of due south as she should have done.  Randy replied, "Well, then, turn around and drive back in the direction you came from."

"I don't want to turn around!"  (I'm still not sure why, unless she did not have confidence in executing a 3-point turn on a two-lane highway.)

"Okay, then keep driving until you come to Interstate 35, head south to Interstate 20, go east to the Dike exit at T55 and head south to 175."

More time elapsed.  This time she called MY cell phone.  "Hi Mom!  You didn't tell me there are TWO Highway 20's!  I'm in Fort Dodge."  For those of you who don't know Iowa, Fort Dodge is quite a ways WEST of Interstate 35.  She had gotten off D20 going west instead of east.  She kept driving through tiny towns trying to find one whose name she recognized.  I am thankful that she finally arrived in Fort Dodge, where she was calling me from the gas station where she had stopped.

Rolling my eyes, I said, "Go to the truck and get the Iowa map out of the glove compartment."  A pause while she went to retrieve it . . . "Now, open it up and find Waterloo.  Look about one inch north of Waterloo and you will see Waverly, where you came from.  Now go about TEN inches to the left.  That is where you are!"

She giggled sheepishly.

I told her to ask someone how to get back to Interstate 20, to be sure she was heading EAST when she turned onto it, and to call me when she got to the Dike exit, which she did.  I assumed that would be the last I heard from her until she rolled into the driveway.

I assumed incorrectly.  The phone rang again.

"Okay, so I turned left at the wrong stop sign on T-55.  So, I decided to back around the corner, but I turned too sharp and backed right into the ditch.  Now I'm stuck in the snow."

"Okay, I'll call your dad and see if he can come help you."

After calling Randy, who was NOT happy, I called Alyssa back.  She said several people had already stopped to see if she was okay.  I told her that if anyone stopped and offered to pull her out of the ditch, to take them up on it.  Just as I said this, some guys pulled up in a pickup and offered to pull her out.  I told her to leave her cell phone open on the seat and to let them help (one of the beauties of living in rural America - I wasn't worried about her safety among strangers).  They had her out of the ditch in short order, and she was again on her way home. By the time she arrived home she had been traveling for over four hours!

I was proud and reassured by the manner in which she conducted herself during this adventure. She never lost her cool, she was not afraid to ask for help, she kept in touch with us by phone, and she could laugh at herself.  I hope she has gained a better "mental map" of north central Iowa, so there will not be a repeat performance.

It seems to me that there are some generalized spiritual life lessons to be learned here.  First and foremost, if you realize you are going in the wrong direction, stop immediately and turn around.  It can save you time, money, anxiety, and wear and tear.  Continuing in the wrong direction is not going to get you where you want to go.  Having a map in the glove compartment doesn't do you any good.  Take it out and look at it!  Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it.  Keep in touch with those who care for you, even when you have to admit you've made a mistake.  

And, finally, there is much truth to the saying, "Blessed are we who can laugh at ourselves, for we shall never cease to be amused."