On the rare occasions when I travel out of town, I am usually a passenger. And, as such, typically pay little attention to streets and towns. After all, I'm just along for the ride.

Years ago, I was taking Danny to work, as I needed to keep the car to run errands. He drove and I took the wheel after dropping him off. When it came time to pick him up, I managed to find the main road he had taken, but failed to see the turn off to his place of employment. I drove, mile after mile, finally giving up and turning around some 10 or 12 miles further down the road than I needed to be. Watching the route carefully all the way back, I made yet another circuit, growing more frantic by the minute. By the time I made my way back home, utterly defeated, Danny was already there, having walked the entire distance. I tried to pay closer attention after that, but if I didn't need to know the way, I still could see no sense in foregoing the star gazing or the sky watch for hawks. And, as is usual in rural America, the deer watch. (Coming home from North Dakota several years ago, the deer were so plentiful, the herds so enormous, it seemed every two or three miles I would cry out, "deer!" And Danny would hit the brakes.)

So it is not unusual, from my perspective, and my avoidance of I-80, that I was unaware that Grand Island is positioned some miles north of the highway. And it scarcely mattered.

Until last Saturday night. Driving home from Omaha with a friend and co-worker after a Gazette sponsored field trip, we noted that the fuel tank was getting low and our tummies were a grumbling. I had noticed exit warning signs for Grand Island from the driver's seat, and positioned myself in the right hand lane, waiting for the exit to appear. One finally did. But it seemed to lead to nowhere. I could not see any city lights at all indicating that a community of Grand Island's size was anywhere nearby, so I kept going. Since neither one of us were frequent enough travelers along the interstate, we debated our options, and, noting that Kearney was still some 40 plus miles distant, we both began to hope that the fuel gauge was wholly reliable. Thankfully, there is more than one exit to Grand Island, and soon enough we came upon another and as it looked a lot more populated we took ourselves off the highway and fed both machine and man.

Lorri and I had a good laugh over my reticence to venture off the beaten track when no city lights beckoned. But experience had taught me well. In December 1972 my future sister-in-law and I, along with her young son and her niece and nephew, found ourselves wandering the deserted Northern Wyoming badlands, in search of her sister's home on a remote ranch. Our directions were decidedly vague. We were to turn right when we saw three tanks on the left side of the highway, 18 miles before reaching the next town. Both of us city-born and bred, we could only imagine what "tanks" might be. Army tanks? Gas tanks? How big are these tanks supposed to be? Add to that the fact that we were traveling in the middle of the night on a ribbon of black surrounded by white snow and it is easy to see how we got turned around. We explored several roads, enticed by little farm yard lights, discovering that the roads ended in snow drifts even the farm vehicles couldn't break down. We finally gave up and drove into the next town to call. The next day, the tanks, which were enormous holding tanks, were spotted easily in the light of day.

I do not travel our country roads hereabouts, day or night, unless I am in the company of an experienced country road traveler. It is too easy for me to get turned around and I can easily imagine myself going around in circles until I finally run out of gas and am forced to stay in one place long enough for help to find me. And, in the dark, don't even think about it. If its dark, Dawn's not going.

Actually, it's a good lesson for day-to-day living. If I cannot see the Light, I'm not going. I spent enough time in the Darkness and I have no desire to get turned around now.

"In him was life, and that life was the light of men." John 1:4 (NIV)

Things you won't see in heaven: Flashlights