Different Roads

When I learned to drive, I learned on the back roads of Missouri. Around here, gravel roads are an exercise in humility…for that matter so are the black tops. The roads wind through the hills, disappear around blind curves, climb steep ridges, and dip unexpectedly into creek bottoms and low water crossings.

You don’t fly down a Missouri gravel road unless you’re looking to end up in a ditch or a fence row. So I learned to drive carefully on those gravel roads. Slow down before the curve. Watch for loose gravel. Expect the unexpected.

Those roads taught me well.

Then I started dating Rich.

The first time we went back to his hometown in northeast Nebraska, I was a bit nervous about meeting his parents for the first time, so I took a deep breath when he turned right onto the gravel road that led to his home.

I settled into the passenger seat, expecting another slow, winding drive. Instead…Rich stepped on the gas, and his 1974 Camaro took off like a bat out of hell.

I grabbed the dashboard, certain we were about to meet Jesus.

Rich, meanwhile, was completely relaxed.

I must have made a some sort of panicked pre-death whimper because he turned his head and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“What are you doing?!?! ARE. YOU. TRYING. TO. KILL. US?”

It wasn’t until later that I realized the problem wasn’t Rich’s driving.

The problem was my assumptions.

Missouri gravel roads and northeast Nebraska gravel roads have almost nothing in common…other than gravel.

In Missouri, gravel roads probably started their lives as cow paths that gradually expanded with use. The roads curve around hills and trees and creeks — they can be narrow and snaky.

Nebraska gravel roads follow the section lines. They’re straight, broad, and long. You can see for what seems like forever.

The speed that felt crazy to me was perfectly reasonable to someone who had spent his life driving roads where you could see a mile ahead.

Neither of us was wrong. We were simply responding to the roads that had taught us.

I’ve thought about that many times over the years. Not just while driving, but also while living.

It occurs to me that people are a little like gravel roads, carrying the landscapes that shaped us.

Some people grew up in homes where every disagreement became an argument. Others grew up learning that nothing difficult ever need to be discussed. Some learned that the safest thing to do was speak up. Others learned that safety meant keeping your mouth shut and your head down. Some learned to trust easily, while others learned it was better to hold their hearts close.

Without realizing it, we spend much of our lives driving according to the roads that first taught us how. We assume everyone else’s road looks like ours.

When they don’t, we wonder why they slammed on the brakes…or why they didn’t.

Last week was our anniversary, and one of the quiet gifts of marriage has been discovering that Rich and I weren’t just raised in different houses. We were raised on W-A-Y different roads in W-A-Y different neighborhoods.

There’s a verse in Proverbs about trusting in the Lord “and he will make straight your paths.”

For years, I pictured that verse as God doing exactly that, like literally getting rid of all those curves and bumps from the road ahead. But today, I hear it a little differently.

Maybe the promise isn’t that every road becomes straight (because perpetually straight roads can be a bit dull to drive) — maybe it’s that God guides us faithfully whether the road appears straight like Nebraska…or winding like Missouri.

Because faith isn’t learning one perfect way to drive, it’s adapting to conditions and learning to trust the One who knows all the roads.

A Question: Who in your life frustrates you because they seem to approach the world so differently than you do?

An Invitation: What if, instead of asking, “Why are they like that?” you asked, “What kind of roads taught them to see the world this way?” Work to practice curiosity before judgment.

When someone surprises you, pause, and imagine the landscape that shaped them — the curves and straightaways, the hills and valleys. Because understanding it might make you a kinder traveling companion.

With you in the growing,