#4 Where the streets have no name

Lost My friend Coleen calls me St. Nora the Perpeptually Lost.

She's right. 

So of course my GPS is my most prized possession.  But, it doesn't work in mmmBELLYmay land.  We don't really have addresses there.  Or street names.  Stuff like that.

One day I was out running errands with a friend.  We didn't know the way back to where we were staying, so we asked someone for directions.  I promptly goofed them up.  We didn't realize it at first, just kept driving,  the road getting rougher and rougher.  I finally stopped when the road ended in a pile of rubble that even 4wd couldn't handle.  I'd just started to turn the truck around, when the guy who'd given us the directions rode up on his bike, all out of breath.  He'd been chasing us the whole time, but we didn't see him.  He was so sorry we'd gotten lost (my fault, not his directions).  After he'd apologized over and over, he led us all the way out to the main road.

I love living in  Africa.

John Ortberg had a great GPS story in his book The Me I Want to Be.  Totally speaking my language.  He said:

"At one point while driving in this unfamiliar territory, I was quite sure the GPS voice was wrong.  It said to go left, but I didn’t go left.  I went right because I knew it was wrong.  Then in a fascinating response, the GPS voice said, “Recalculating route.  When safe to do so, execute a U-turn.”  But I knew the voice was still wrong…so I unplugged the GPS.  And – would you believe it? – I got crazy lost! …So we plugged the GPS back in, and do you know what the voice said?

I told you, you little idiot.  You think I’m going to help you now?  There’s no way.  You rejected me.  You just find your own way home!

Of course, the voice didn’t really say that. 

And God isn’t like that either."

Published by Nora McNamara

Lover of languages and linguistics. Besotted Auntie. Jesus follower. Sacred Harp singer.

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