winter in the country

Three activities consume my days as of late:

*Taking care of and loving on Lucas
*My new job at ECFA
*Getting to and from my new job at ECFA

Traveling in rural Illinois in the winter is a masochistic activity like I have never known. As a child I used to love pumping my fist at truckers as they passed by, and listening to the low bellow of the truck horn that would cause the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. These days I find myself wanting to offer the truckers I meet on the road, a different hand gesture.

Allow me to paint a picture: I'm driving along a one lane (each way) rural road listening to Regina Spektor for the 436th time because I keep forgetting to grab a different CD from home. A truck approaches going the opposite direction. Following the truck is a sandstorm of snow that literally reduces visibility to zero for several seconds. I hold my breath, allow my life to flash before my eyes for the fourth time this morning, swear under my breath, wait for the death trap to pass, and continue on my way. All the while slipping and sliding along.

I believe that I owe my current existence to more than just the "Trinity", perhaps more of a "Quadrity" of sorts. There's the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, and, of course, four wheel drive. To each of you I am eternally grateful for being alive today. And to the first three, remind me again...why rural Illinois?