Thank you, God, for being an exceptional driver

BY DAVID MYERS
Southwest Kansas Register
To receive a call from God is to be invited to a journey. You can’t have one without the other. This is the story of my journey. Children and nervous persons may wish to turn the page.    
When I was in junior high and high school, there were two things I knew with certainty concerning my future: 1) I wanted to help people 2) If helping people required mathematics or spelling, they were out of luck.
I realize now that God placed this desire in my heart – the desire to help people -- despite my having little confidence that I could accomplish this goal. I was afraid that I didn’t have the intellectual capacity to do anything but, say, help a little old lady across the street. And even that had its challenges. One day I was helping a woman across some train tracks when Train A, traveling 70 miles per hour, left Boulder heading toward Denver 22 miles away. At the same time Train B, traveling 60 mph, left Golden heading toward Denver, 25 miles away. I quickly calculated when the trains would meet and determined that I could safely walk the little old lady across the rail yard without incident. Sadly, I was a very poor math student. Doctors later assured me that with a little physical therapy, she would be fine.
“Why, Lord?” I prayed, “Why have you instilled in me the desire to help my fellow man (and woman, although only on weekends or when the garbage needs taking out), when I lack the mental capacity to walk a little old lady across some railroad tracks?”
I truly did agonize over my future when I was a student. Remember those career aptitude tests we used to take? I recall answering the questions, knowing even back then that my answers had absolutely no practical applications in the real world. One year my computer readout indicated, “Herring Fisherman.” Herring Fisherman? Did the computer know I lived in Colorado? But that was better than answers I later received, such as “Hat Check Boy at the Hair Club for Men.” Even the computer mocked me.
So, without a clear answer, I went about my way, meandering through school like an earth worm through the soil, praying that God would some how, some way, pluck me from the ground and use me for His purposes (as long as it didn’t involve a giant hook).
Back then, in those mysterious days of junior high and high school, when the future was a big, scary question mark at which you couldn’t wait to arrive, I somehow, some way learned that I liked to write humorous letters. On a bulletin board at home in Colorado is a note I wrote to my mom some 30 years ago: “Norman Vincent Peale called. He sounded depressed.” (Peale wrote, “The Power of Positive Thinking.”) I thought this was the height of hilarity.
There were troubled days to follow high school, days when I couldn’t see God through the fog of my own self-doubt. I entered art school, left after a year, and went to Ft. Louis College in Durango, Colo. There I began taking part in a foray of unhealthy activities. Looking back, it’s hard to believe how patient our incredibly loving God is, to have continued steering the Subaru of my soul even as I tried as hard as I could to steer myself into a deep ravine.
Fortunately for me, God’s not only patient, but He’s a very defensive driver. One semester I signed up for a kayaking class which closed before the first class began due to limited interest. Considering my general lack of buoyancy, it was probably for the best.
So, I signed up for a newspaper practicum class where I quickly learned that I despised journalism. Reporting had nothing to do with helping people. In fact, it seemed to be often just the opposite. But at that point, I was desperate. I didn’t think I could make it as an artist. That’s when, thanks to a new invention called the “spell-check,” I successfully started a humor column for my college paper.
After graduation, I would go from a being a youth editor for the Denver Catholic Register, to managing editor for a secular newspaper, to a technical writer for Standard & Poor’s (my apologies, Standard & Poor’s), to a graphic artist for the Tortola Islander, before Hurricane Lenny urged me back home.
My future was pretty much playing itself out as I had imagined. At 30-something, I was out of work, living at home and wondering what would become of me. Yep. Life was pretty much what I imagined it would be.
That’s when, by chance, I happened to call a Catholic newspaper in southwest Kansas, asking if they had any openings.
Today I can only wonder at the journey. How was God able to steer me through the maze I had created for myself? There were so many twists and turns! But yet, here I am, still writing my sometimes funny letters (only this time to a much larger family!) and having learned that writing stories -- the Good News stories about the good people of southwest Kansas -- is a far, far cry from the “reporting” I had to do in college.
Am I helping people? I don’t know. But if I have – if I’ve managed to help even one person in the 11 years I’ve been in Kansas, then all those meandering years were well worth it.  
To receive a call from God is to be invited to a journey, but it’s not necessarily to a place or to a profession – although it might be. Incredible joys await young men and women who enter the priesthood or Religious life.
Wherever you work, whatever you do, you are being led! Recognize the call of God in your life! Be a witness to his great love for us. Offer a friendly smile, share an encouraging word (We don’t like discouraging words here in Kansas!) – allow yourself to recognize God’s love, His guidance, and not to mention, His exceptional driving ability in this great journey.