di·rec·tion /dɪˈrɛkʃən, ˈdaɪ-/ [di-rek-shuhn, dahy-]
1. the act or an instance of directing.
2. the line along which anything lies, faces, moves, etc., with reference to the point or region toward which it is directed: The storm moved in a northerly direction.
3. the point or region itself: The direction is north.
4. a position on a line extending from a specific point toward a point of the compass or toward the nadir or the zenith.
5. a line of thought or action or a tendency or inclination: the direction of contemporary thought.
6. Usually, directions. instruction or guidance for making, using, etc.: directions for baking a cake.
7. order; command.
8. management; control; guidance; supervision: a company under good direction.
[Origin: 1375–1425; late ME direccioun (< MF) < L dīréctiōn- (s. of dīréctiō) arranging in line, straightening.
I remember being lost in Washington DC. My father pulled to the curb and asked a stranger for directions. The man gave elaborate guidance . . . "Go to the light, make a left, go three more lights, take another left, ... " ETC. My mother took short-hand like notes, feverishly trying to keep up. The man spoke for almost two minutes, which is a pretty long time. Finally he took a breath and said quite matter of factly . . . "When you get to that point, you just have to FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD!". . . and literally ran away laughing as hard as he could and holding his stomach.
Sometimes, like today, I feel like God has done the same thing to me. Sent me on a wild goose chase, and convinced me He was sincere, but in the end it's like some big cosmic joke.
The directions I'm receiving right now are not making sense. (Not that they ever really did, mind you, but I have faith.) I'm at the point now where God is more like the brainless scarecrow - telling me that all directions are "nice." I am confused by it all. For years I have been doing exactly what I felt God would have me do. Following the directions to the utmost detail. And yet, here I am, between Munchkin Land and Oz.
It's not like I've never questioned the directions - I uaually do ask . . . "Are you SURE that's the way I should go? It sounds like you're taking me the long way around." I was always assured that's the direction I was supposed to take. So, that's the way I went. More often than not, I found that I was supposed to go that way because of others, but sometimes it was so I could learn something for myself. But I'll tell you, sometimes it's just not worth the trip.
If I ever get to the Emerald City, and God is nothing more than a manipulative control freak, I'm going to be spending eternity in the wicked witch's dungeon with the flying monkeys, because I'm going to be PISSED - and the whole of the cosmos will know it!!
It's not like I want to go back to Kansas. Things weren't all that great in Kansas. I mean - there was that tornado, and the bitchy spinster, let's not forget the pig pen, and everything there is so . . . colorless. No. Kansas is not where I want to be. I've been to Kansas and it's no promised land. I'll take my chances with the flying monkeys, thanks.
So, what choice do I have but to keep following the yellow brick road in my ruby slippers that certainly don't match my blue gingham dress? And....do I *HAVE* to take the Cowardly Lion with me? He's driving me to the brink of insanity.
I tried the three clicks thing already - it doesn't work.
I just want to go home.