Lately I run the long paved road past our driveway, avoiding semis, combines, and pickups. Most days I feel thankful for their presence and protection while on the highway; other times I am biting my tongue when cars don’t have the common courtesy to move to the side.
Why do the tractors, pickups, and other farm transportation graciously and smoothly move to the side, while cars do not? Because they don’t have to, that’s why. Which is why most days, I am pretty darn grateful for this country life and these country people. Because they most certainly do not have to move out of the way for me … but they do.
Other days, I wonder how on earth a businessman’s girl ended up on the farm.
Oh yeah, I remember. It’s that country boy. Curse me and those young hormones. And those country songs. And those country dances. And the barn parties. And his great smile.
Why does he have to smile like that? It’s that smile and intoxicating country music that’s brought me to the middle-of-nowhere.
Even greater yet, how is it that I am made for this place?
I have no idea.
To say that this has been an easy transition would be a lie.
It has been hard. Challenging. Frustrating. Wild. But I have a feeling I am going to look back on these days as some of the best of my life.
And, God knows I don’t like easy. So this is a natural fit, after all.