The road directions mapped out my course on my phone even without wifi, and I jammed out to music as I sped down the roads. I knew half of the route after all. No need to worry.
But first, a quick stop at a store to pick out a snack to take with me to the party. I walked through the sliding doors and bouquets of flowers bobbed at me. No, I didn’t need flowers. Two steps towards the food, and I changed my mind.
With five sunflowers clasped in my hand, I checked out.
Back in the car, I navigated the unknown roads, and I was pleased because so far things were going as planned. Even my educated guesses were correct.
Until one time.
Fifteen minutes later, I realized that I was not pulling into my host’s driveway. Fields of tall grass surrounded me and then forest.
A woman exercise-walked up a hill, and I slowed, rolling down my window and trying not to be a creeper.
“Excuse me? Do you know Burnfield Court?” I called out my window.
She stopped her walking and shook her head. “I don’t. Is that in this county?”
My stomach sunk. I was really lost. Where were the road signs? That had been the beginning of my problem. And why didn’t I just turn on my data so the GPS could guide me…Oh, I remembered, I was trying to save money on my phone bill.
“Okaaaay. What’s the name of this road then?”
“Licorice Drive.”
At least now I knew where I was, even if it meant that I was not where I was meant to be.
Does that ever happen with you? You’ve made a checklist, did everything on it, but things still didn’t come together like you thought they would? Or you’ve done all the right things but life didn’t live up to your plan?
Oh, honey, you aren’t the only one.
I think we all get there sooner or later, whether you followed The Plan or rebelled against whatever expectations others had for you. Eventually, we smash into the road rut, spinning out of control and smearing across the pavement, skidding to a stop to stare up at the sky.
What. just. happened?
It’s another type of lost, a scarier kind because it’s not the simple turn-your-car-around-we’ll-be-back-on-track-in-five-minutes.
Maybe it’s the mid-life crisis or the 20s wake up call. I’ve heard the talk about it, where one day so-and-so wakes up from her hit-the-snooze-half-asleepness to say, “How did I get here? I don’t want this life.”
As much as I don’t like to admit that I’m lost and need directions, stopping and asking for help will get me on the map again.
Unless you’re one of those types…who likes wandering around lost, trying to Eat-Pray-Love your way to finding yourself in an unknown field or forest. But why wonder lost…when you don’t have to? When there’s a map with directions?
I’ve been pondering something for a long while. I don’t really know how to write it, how to pack it nicely into a perfect article of truth. But I want you to think about it, too. Please don’t let me headache over this on my own!
When I forget who God is, I forget who I am.
I get lost.
Am I the only one who’s seen this? In myself? In others? Honestly, the only way I can see God is through my very human eyes and I often project my own flaws onto Him. But that’s not how it’s meant to be.
I am not God. Are you? No?
So who is He? Really.
When I ask myself this, I so often fall back on my Sunday school learning, laundry-listing God’s attributes. Borrrrring.
If you’re wondering who God is, I challenge you to look at your life and draw up moments where you saw God in action. What did you see in Him in these moments? I dare you to read through Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John of the Bible and keep a list of what characteristics Jesus showed in his actions.
What have you forgotten about who God is?
Flash Fiction: The Measure of Character
The Measure of Character
by Barbara Brutt, IG @cordiallybarbara, T @barbarabrutt
I should have known when he didn’t look up from his phone.
When I first set eyes on him, I didn’t like him because he expected to be liked. His body, like a swimmer, strung long, lean, and fit with ape arms. Grey eyes and dusty hair that could either be brown or blond depending on the light. Sure, someone might think him attractive but not me.
I asked for his cell number, and he gave it to me. “Because it could be useful.”
When Lisa and Chad were moving, I showed up to help, but Lisa grabbed me to dive into the pool with her rather than do the landscaping. He was there, too, helping Chad with the yard while joking that he helped so he could use us later.
Clothes dragging in the water, we girls somersaulted like dolphins.
I surfaced in the shallow end of the pool and came up to watch him…watching him as he hauled a bag of dirt on his strong shoulders. My eyes lingered on his back but wandered to his butt.
I jerked my eyes away while heat rushed through my insides.
Fast forward. The texts we exchanged caused me to clear my inbox, and my phone became my constant companion. We were connected at the hip.
He and I.
Me, my phone, his phone, him.
The ding of my phone thrilled every fiber in me, and its silence chilled my insides to ice. My emotions tied to technology. When had I begun to fall for him?
“I think I like you.” I typed into my text, erased it, and then rewrote it. No, I can’t send that.
But then, I did.
My stomach boiled and my skin flashed hot and cold. Would this be another case of un-reciprocated feelings? What did he gain dating me? Had I just ruined a friendship?
My phone dinged. He wanted to pick me up. He liked me too.
Heart in throat, I scurried into clean shorts and shirt. He arrived and we sat, not speaking, in the car together while driving to a nearby restaurant for drinks or desserts. It didn’t really matter.
We slammed car doors, wandering through the parking lot towards the hazy windows and neon lights. I wished he’d grab my hand, but he held his phone.
“Excuse me.”
A woman flanked by two young girls. Hands out. Eyebrows drawn together. Eyes begging.
My heart squeezed. Did I have anything useful to offer? My smile felt more like a wince, and I looked to him, hoping he’d know what to do, show compassion or kindness, at least a kind word.
I should have known when he didn’t look up from his phone.
[Tweet “A Measure of Character (flash fiction) is cow’s cud because I had to chew over it.”]
What should she have known about him?
What themes are being shared in this story as a caution?
Short Story: The Empty Speech Bubble
She scratched her nose. The movement irritated her newly healing tattoo located on her finger.
Evelyn surveyed the underground train with its ever-changing occupants, Chanel bags next to trash bags stuffed with a conglomeration of items, families crammed next to singles, old fashioned next to high fashion. A swirl of scents, colors, movements.
Five stops to go.
A woman who looked like she’d just walked out of a magazine rushed to another train car just as the doors were closing. Hopefully, the woman had made it.
Evelyn’s nose itched, right near the tip, where a good rub just might do the trick. She tried to wiggle the itch away. Midway through the wiggle, Evelyn relaxed her hands cautious of her tattoo and decided the itch was just in her head. She would ignore it.
The train ground to a stop and the doors eased open, releasing passengers and accepting new ones. The magazine model woman glided in among the new passengers and dropped into the seat across from Evelyn. The woman released a long breath and gazed out the window.
At three stops from Evelyn’s, a man slid into the seat next to magazine model.
“Come on. You’re beautiful.” The man leaned in. “Let’s go on a date.”
Magazine model pursed her pink lips and shook her head while staring hard at the window. The sigh from a moment ago replaced with tenseness.
Evelyn wanted to believe that the odd couple across from her were some type of acquaintance. But she couldn’t be sure. She shifted her eyes towards them, accidentally catching the woman’s eye and so Evelyn winced her commiseration at the man’s pushy behavior.
The itch at the tip of her nose persisted. She wouldn’t scratch it. Must ignore.
The man spoke again. “Just a coffee?”
“No, thank you.” The woman turned her body further from the man.
The train slowed for another stop, and a passenger across the aisle stood up, nodded at the date-desperate man. “Good luck, man.” His voice smooth friendliness and encouragement. They grinned at each other.
“Can I have your number then?” The man returned to his date quest.
She shook her head.
The itch on Evelyn’s nose was too much. She reached up and rubbed her nose with the palm of hand. Right in front of her eyes, the tiny circle with a tale tattoo on the inside of her pointer finger seemed to point at her. An empty speech bubble. A time to speak and a time to be silent…
One more stop.
The man put his arm across the back of the woman’s seat, scooting closer. The woman’s jaw line stood out, but she focused out the window.
As the train squealed to a halt at Evelyn’s stop, she hoped that the woman across from her would exit the train too. She didn’t stir. Evelyn stood and swung out of the train. Her hand slammed into the train’s door, and the pain of the impact made her gasp.
Turning back towards the train, Evelyn glimpsed the woman in the window with the man still pressing her.
The pulsing in her hand slowed. Why hadn’t she stood up for the woman? Evelyn gazed at her tattoo, feeling the accusation of the empty speech bubble.