To all my Texan friends: I apologize in advance for anything I say that may sound as if I don’t like Texas or Texans. Please bear with me. I love Texans and any state that provides two new birds per day for my life list is an awesome place!
Starbucks on the Right
The first time I drove through a Texas city, I saw a Starbucks off the freeway. “Perfect!” I thought. “I need a late afternoon pick-me-up. I’ll just swing off at the next exit, grab a coffee, and be on my way again in no time.” Wrong.
I exited the freeway onto this strange set of four lanes all going in the same direction. The Starbucks slid by on my right before I could make it across the four busy lanes, so I opted to turn left. Normally, turning left to duck under the freeway and turn in at some business to get headed in the right direction wouldn’t pose a problem. In Texas, it doesn’t work that way.
Within five minutes I knew I’d have to resort to Siri to get me out of the snarl. “Find next Starbucks,” I told her. She responded with instructions to get back on the freeway going in the opposite direction I wanted to go.
I followed her instructions—or so I thought. But no, evidently, that four-lane one-way thing that runs parallel to the freeway has the same name as the freeway, but it also has another name on the road sign above the stop light.
And don’t get me started on the left-hand turn lanes. I angered many a local in my ten days in Texas by inadvertently choosing the wrong one. Evidently, if one wants to get back on the freeway (the real one, not the frontage one that goes by the same name), one takes the innermost left-hand turn lane. This special U-turn lane provides the best access to the freeway going in the opposite direction. The other one will get you there, too, but, well, I can’t explain. If you’ve never driven in Texas, you wouldn’t understand until you experienced a few of them yourself.
Back to my search for Starbucks. After ten minutes, I still hadn’t reached the promised land. My heart raced like I’d had a double-double super caffeinated macchiato, and I didn’t think I’d fall asleep or feel drowsy any time soon. I had made it back on the freeway headed in the right direction, though.
Bless those Texan road engineers. I felt sorry for the businesses along the freeways. How many other people attempted to reach a Texas roadside business only to give up in frustration. Shoot, if I lived in Texas, I’d probably just quit drinking coffee and order everything else exclusively from Amazon.
Other peculiarities caught my eye, as well. For example, whilst driving down a two-lane highway I noticed a strange, three-foot wide no-man’s land in the middle of the road. I couldn’t decide its purpose—a bike lane? A turn lane for really thin vehicles? The guy painting the lines forgot to remove the construction cones before he laid down the yellow stripes? Who knows. Bless those Texans, they must have a logical reason.
Those Texan Toll Roads
Try mapping a route with Siri between point A and B in Texas without using toll roads and you’ll find yourself in another snarl. I armed myself with a big jar of pennies and a pile of ones, because in Oklahoma (my only other toll road experience) I’d run into the “We don’t accept any bills over twenty” and the “toss your change in the hopper” kind of toll booths.
Planning ahead didn’t work for me, though. Texas doesn’t accept pennies. I held up traffic at a toll booth for five minutes whilst searching for enough change to pay the $1.75 in coins. The drivers piled up behind me started to roar their big Texan truck engines (my Prius couldn’t roar back). I ended up using five pennies anyway.
I decided to go through the manned toll booth the next time. Only to discover that Texas has a whole new kind of toll booth. More of a “we’ve-suckered-you-on-to-this-toll-road-but-you-can-only-get-off-if-you-have-our-special-window-tag variety.” They’ll happily take your photo as you pass under the toll ticker and send you a big bill (or send you to prison if you pass under too many times). I just wanted to go to Starbucks.
Despite my love of solitary driving, I surely would have welcomed a Texan driving assistant to help me navigate the quirks of Texas roadways.
Driving in a state of confusion for ten days made me think about church. What must visitors feel like when they walk through the doors? Does someone greet them and walk them through the traffic patterns? Do they feel frustrated because everyone seems to know how to navigate the service, the vocabulary, and the customs without a hitch or a wrong turn?Have you thought about how visitors feel when they walk through your church doors? Click To Tweet
Every denomination has different routines and procedures that make sense to those accustomed to attending. But what do visitors feel like? I grew up in a church that passed around little cups for communion. Imagine my shock when I visited a friend’s church and they passed a big goblet around (and yes, everyone sipped from the same goblet).
The roads in Texas have the same purpose as the roads in Arizona—to get people from point A to point B. Likewise, regardless of our denominations, churches all have the same purpose—to bring people into a personal relationship with Jesus.
The next time a stranger shows up at my church, I plan on helping them through the tangle—and it starts with a smile and a conversation. After all, I wouldn’t want them to feel like an out-of-towner on a Houston freeway!
Inspire Me Monday Instructions
What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:
1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!
2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.
3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!
Don’t forget to visit our other #InspireMeMonday host site over at Blessed (but Stressed)!