Runnin’ on empty . . .

I went on a little road trip yesterday to visit my friend Lori at her new house. Now, I know I’ve gone on about how I live way out in the country, but my house is in downtown Dallas compared to where Lori lives. Her home is on the frontier. Waaaay out in the boonies.

 

There’s not even a gas station in her town.

 

Which normally wouldn’t be a problem, because I’m very good about keeping a full tank. Except when I’m distracted, which is a lot.

 

I remember noticing earlier in the week that my gas tank was getting low, but it was never a good time to fill it. So I did what many reasonable, mature adults do when faced with a small problem in the midst of bigger life issues.

 

I ignored it.

 

So when Lori invited me to come see her new home, I jumped at the chance, jumped in the car, and headed out. You can see where this is going, but this is where the plot thickens.

 

There’s a reason Lori and I are friends. We’re very much alike, and one of the ways we’re alike is our directional disability. So while I was oblivious to the fact that with every turn of my wheels, my gas tank was being sucked dry, I was also following Lori’s meticulous directions to her remote cabin in the woods. Which I would have found, had her directions been correct.

 

There was one teensy little error. She told me to look for her road on the right.

 

It was on the left.

 

So onward I ventured, miles and miles into the belly of Nowheresville.

 

That’s when I called her, to see if I was supposed to be in another county, or had I gone too far? Right about then, I noticed my gas gauge was below the Empty line.

 

I was running on fumes, y’all. More than that. I was running on Jesus.

 

I made a big U-turn, and Lori met me on the road and led me to her house, where I coasted into her driveway. Fortunately, her husband Joe kept the gas can full, and Lori gave my parched tank enough of a sip to make it back to civilization.

 

So many lessons here.

 

All too often, I run on empty. I watch my needle falling lower and lower on the gauge. I feel myself being sucked dry by all the little everyday trials. But in addition to the little issues, I also have big problems to deal with. Things like doing everything right for our new family business, so I don’t run us in the ground before we even get started. Things like making sure everybody’s fed and happy and healthy and making the grades they need to make. Things like playing chauffeur and nurse and tutor and all-around cheerleader for a teenage boy and a collegeage girl and an amazing, hardworking husband.

 

The more I think about it, the more I realize I’m often waaaay more concerned about filling everyone else’s tank, while I let mine evaporate to nothing. Before I know it, I’m coasting on fumes in the middle of nowhere.