Lost In Kentucky

Sometimes I get lost in thought. It surprises people that I have thoughts deep enough to get lost in, but one man’s deep is another man’s shallow. Let’s just say I don’t like to tread water. Wandering mindlessly in the shallow end is how I ended up at on a dead end road somewhere between Bonnieville and Clarkson, somewhere in Kentucky, just past Little Flock Baptist Church.

You have to appreciate any congregation that names themselves Little Flock. No unrealistic aspirations for them. No illusions of grandeur. No need for a big building fund.

I wish all churches followed this pattern. It would make it much easier to tell what you were getting yourself into. You would know before you even walked through the door how you would be treated at the Self Righteous Christian Church or the Overly Friendly Methodist Church. High Tech Production Second First Episcopalian Church would attract a lot of entertainment fans. There would be less competition for the moniker Long And Boring Sermon Baptist/Christian/Catholic/Take-Your-Pick Church, though it should be one of the most sought.

As I was saying a few paragraphs above, I can get distracted. Such was the case on Mother’s Day. One of my gifts for Mom was a Jerry Clower CD. I was distracted because I was listening to it. I should explain why I was listening to a gift CD, which would make it, in essence, a second hand CD, but I won’t. It’s my story and I don’t have to.

Anyway, I was listening to Jerry and drove right past my appointed turn. It only took me some 30 minutes to notice that I had missed the turn. I’m quick like that.

My choices were to turn around, head to my appointed turn and get back on track, which would have cost me another half hour, or to try a new route from where I was. Since I was where I was and couldn't start from anywhere else, I went with the new route from there, hoping to save a half hour but knowing it would probably cost me twice that. My new, direct route meant making 15 turns on 10 unlined, one and a half car wide country roads.

About 15 minutes into my detour I saw a sign that said, “High Water,” but since I couldn't see any water over the road, on I went. In another 15 minutes, soon after passing the Little Flock Baptist Church, I found the water. It came with a barricade. Impassible water. Time to turn around. Find a new route. Help me phone.

Surprisingly, I still had a phone signal, so I eyeballed a route that looked promising – there were green lines on the phone indicating there were roads there – and headed out.

At one point, a truck in front of me pulled over to let me pass. I suppose he thought I knew where I was going and that I wanted to get there fast. Actually, I was in a hurry to find out where I was going and when I would get there.

In any event, Jerry and I made it to Mom’s for Mother’s Day.

As an added bonus, Mom didn’t have to unwrap the CD. I always have been thoughtful like that.