Nebraska retrospective - a conclusion
Nebraska, you're not for everyone. But on this road trip, you were home to a great and unexpected blessing. Yes, I accomplished what I set out to do, which was to uncover what went wrong in my life. Not only that, but my expectations for this trip turned out to be inferior to how it actually unraveled.
It's clear, as I sit down to write this — the final post of my Nebraska retrospective — God chose to bless me on this trip. But you know what? It wouldn't have happened had I not said that prayer and put it in His hands. While the outcome may have looked obvious to anyone else, to me it did not look obvious. All I knew is I did not want to run afoul of God's plan or timing. That last sentence contains what I have learned in the last 20-plus years since I lived in Nebraska. Things are better left in God's hands than my own.
What went wrong all those years ago? I pushed God out of my life, leaving me to make dreadful decisions which took me far from His care. That's it. Very simple. I abandoned God as my foundation and guide and suffered the consequences. Left to my own devices, I made a mess of my life.
If I deserve any credit at all, it is for being so willing to deeply assess and take the blame where blame is due. Sometimes, I am too willing, but that's better than being unwilling. I feel I am awake now, when before I was asleep.
God can restore the years the locusts have eaten and many times over. I'm not sure how, but it's possible. My whole attitude has changed. I am not headstrong anymore. I am not strong at all! I am a middle-aged man who is trying to make progress with God. This little road trip was a good look at where I've been and the mistakes I made.
This trip also showed me what can happen when one leaves a decision in God's hands. Sometimes seemingly nothing happens and we're left to wonder why. And sometimes an unexpected blessing occurs.
As I said before, I won't get ahead of myself (or God). That shows I've changed and matured in the last few years. While it was good to see the girl of my dreams again when I thought I never would, I also felt nothing had changed and we were both guarded. But, as much as I was guarded, I was still not shy of expressing how much I care about her. And, in case any readers worry what will happen if I do not end up with this lovely girl, I have prepared my heart for that very real (and inevitable?) possibility. But, if I do end up in a relationship with her, I will treat her as a God-given treasure and as the rare and precious girl she is. That much I know. As for the rest — what I don't know — that is in God's hands.
What I've seen over and over again is this: this girl I am in love with, she's much the same as how my trip turned out. She's unexpected. I thought I knew women when I was growing up. I thought they were all the same. From my mother (toxic) to the girls in my classes (uninteresting), from the ones I saw on TV (bimbos) to the ones living on my block (again, uninteresting), I thought they were all the same. How dumb and dull of me. No, they are not all the same. And this one, she's beyond special to me. I've never met another woman like her in 41 years. I didn't even know a woman like her even existed. Now that I know, I don't ever want to let her go. I can't even imagine what a lifetime spent with her would have done to me. I probably would have blown up from happiness, so maybe it was good I didn't get that.
Here are some notes on the music I brought along. I remember buying the albums Tragic Kingdom (No Doubt) and Set Your Goals (CIV) in Kearney many years ago. Those came along on this trip. An album I decided not to bring along was Bad Religion's Stranger Than Fiction because I thought it would be counterproductive (also because I don't own it anymore). Set Your Goals annoyed me more than anything else, and I know the album by heart. Tragic Kingdom was a different experience. I recall the song Don't Speak because when I originally owned this album there was a car crash that killed two kids I knew. One was a 16-year-old girl who was dating an older guy who had graduated and worked for the city, I think. The boy's father was actually one of the first responders on scene and recognized what had happened. The kids had been to a party at a nearby town and were on their way back to town and apparently didn't see a semi in front of them slow down and went right under it, basically decapitating them. Don't Speak reminds me of that to this day. Though it may sound like a strange association for a breakup song, breaking up sometimes feels like dying, doesn't it?
There are two other songs on the album I really like even now. Spiderwebs is my all-time favorite No Doubt song, hands down. Remember having phone stalkers? Remember screening phone calls with your answering machine? It's just a fun song. And Sunday Morning is the other song I still like. I think we can all agree the kids who were crazy six days a week looked a little strange in church on Sunday morning. Tragic Kingdom was perhaps the first album I bought with a female vocalist. Gwen Stefani's vocals were decidedly ska-ish on this album, but I can see how her versatility enabled her to eventually blow up in the pop genre.
What is weird is I can recall being in certain places when I hear certain songs like it was yesterday. It's amazing how our memories work. The smells I took in while wandering McCook were much the same as I remember. When I was running on the track at Broken Bow, the mowed grass and smell of the rubber track were a familiar mix. The smell of summer in Nebraska was intoxicating (except when the wind is blowing from the direction of a feedlot). As giant dragonflies bounced off my windshield as I drove through the Sandhills, I recalled fishing in that area with my dad and brothers.
The way I felt while in Broken Bow was unexpected and dissipated as soon as I left. It was unease and a sort of panic. I honestly don't understand why I felt that way. I drove past both houses we lived in (one we rented and the other we owned). I drove past one of the homes the girl I'm in love with used to live in. I drove past the elementary, middle school, and high schools I attended. I noticed trees that grew up in my absence and even noted some that had grown up and been cut down. The playground at my old elementary was different, safer, and had more to do. The stadium at the high school football field was different. I recalled there being a stadium on the opposite side as well, but it was gone when I visited. I'm sure there were a million things that changed. That's just the pace of progress in America.
I didn't see much had changed when I walked through McCook. However, there was a huge addition to the campus. Where I lived was much the same, but I'm sure the town is sprawling outward from its edges. Wherever I went, I found what I missed the most was the people I knew. And there's no way to get that back. I still felt like a stranger or a newcomer, and that's how I felt when I lived there as well. While a lot of what I saw was very familiar (perhaps too familiar), much was also unfamiliar. In fact, I would say the unfamiliar outweighed the familiar.
One familiar thing was how I felt about the girl I knew and began to love there, the same girl I visited on this trip. Our time together felt natural and timeless. While our lives diverged and other people became important, I still felt there was a tenderness between us. If I felt I missed that girl after leaving high school, then I felt I missed her stronger than ever on this trip. Reconnecting with her again was a bright spot. I joked that she may have made my year by visiting with me, but, dear readers, it was not a joke. She didn't have to do anything extraordinary to elicit that response from me. She just had to be herself. While she lamented her house was a mess, I found myself dreading the moment I had to leave it. And it wasn't a mess, merely lived-in. I didn't think it while I was there, but I have since then. That could have been our house, and instead of saying goodbye until who-knows-when (and perhaps for the last time), I could have been merely stepping out for an errand. Yeah, it was the house of what coulda been.
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| Driving to Kearney, I saw these distant billowing clouds, which reminded me of the powerful thunderstorms we'd get in the summer. |
Driving back to South Dakota after five days in Nebraska, I was satisfied with what I had found. Everything made sense. No, my trip did not go as planned, but that was a good thing. I accomplished what I set out to do as well as saw my favorite girl and her family, which was a pleasant reprieve from my retrospection.
Nebraska's old slogan, which is still in use, is, "Nebraska ... the good life." I don't know if living in a state necessarily makes your life good, but I know if I had settled down with that girl anywhere, I would have had a good life. Moreover, if I had followed God's plan for my life, my life would have been much better. The value of my road trip is seeing all of that. It's the value of a lesson learned. And, perhaps, in this day and age when everyone is barrelling full speed ahead without a thought for tomorrow, that's a rare thing.
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