Leaving our city vehicles in the garage, the two seniors ventured out today, to visit the wilds of the Midwest. We chose to travel in a big old Pick-em-up Truck (as we say here in the Heartland). It was an ethereal day. Sunshine, fluffy white clouds and not a raindrop in sight, for the last two days.
We traveled South, until we reached our destination, a farm in SE Kansas. Pulling past the gate, onto a gravel (or as we say in Kansas, "chat" ) road, it occurred to me that this area had experienced a bit more rainfall than we had measured in Kansas City. I thought to myself, "Gee I bet this land floods, easily."
A few more yards and we were stuck. really stuck. Our passengers, dismounted, and started up the hill to fire up the tractor, hoping to pull the pick-up out of the mud. In the meantime, I climbed down and waited by the side of the road for rescue.
Then, I attempted to follow the path of our passengers, but soon found I could not wade through the puddles in the road. So I waited, standing still amid the chiggers and ticks, for rescue.
Meanwhile the driver, of the truck, managed to get the truck moving forward (don't even think...without Nancy's weight in the cab), slinging black gooey mud globs in my hair, on my clothes and face. Turning around, I got the same treatment on my backside.
Then, with the utmost skill, our driver got the truck turned around, stopped to pick me up and we headed to higher ground.
Back on the road, I picked caked mud out of my hair, off my cloths and face. What an experience!
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Dear God. Life seems to be either a smooth 4-lane highway or a muddy, impassable country road. Be with us always as we travel the ever changing roads of life. Into every life a little mud must be slung.
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