There was this country road in Lampasas County, Texas, I used to drive when I was a regional reporter at the Killeen Daily Herald covering a county beat and several small towns.
The road was so filled with potholes, bumps, moguls and cracked dirt that driving it was like a slalom course...or maybe a game of dodgeball, where the potholes and flying rocks became the objects to avoid.
Sometimes, even through my best efforts, I'd have to hit a pothole with one tire and a huge bump in the road with another. I had my windshield cracked on that road - twice - from flying pebbles kicked up from the pick-up trucks that used to hurtle down the road without a care to the dangerous conditions.
Life feels like that road sometimes. By the time I turned back onto the four-lane highway, I was a little worse for the wear.
Feeling a bit more than battered and bruised, I've been looking for a soft place to land.
I've found a few so far.
Although far away, my family is always there for me.
I have some very special friends who have been like big, fluffy emotional pillows I can bury myself in like I would a snuggly down comforter.
And I have a new group of women, who, although maybe not yet "friends," are driving that very same road and know what it's like to navigate the bumps and potholes.
Then there's church. And the Bible. And Proverbs and John and Isiah. And my new Sunday School class. And my Wednesday night Bible study.
Right now, they are my soft place to land.
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