From the Home Place

December 5, 2026

4 a.m. and 42 degrees, our weather is broken. This is January, we should be seeing temps with a minus in front of them and the ground covered with several inches of snow. I’m not complaining about the temps though, I sure enough enjoy wearing a vest rather than a parka, but if this shortage of moisture follows us into the Spring, things could get really tough. Yet, we have to trust that God has this all figured out and whatever He sends our way, He will also give us the strength to endure.

Today’s cartoon may be just a tab bit to the extreme, but I figure every country kid learned how to drive at a very early age. For me, I learned how to drive a team of horses before I was old enough to ride one. No, I wasn’t allowed to drive them for a long distance at a time, but I sure enough held the lines while Nip and Pollie pulled the hay wagon.

I would drive and dad would pitch off the hay. I later figured out that he was just keeping me out of the way of his pitchfork as we scattered hay, but I sure didn’t mind holding the lines to the two-horse powered hay wagon. As time went along, I graduated to driving the pickup while dad pitched hay. I have to admit, the pickup was way more difficult to drive than the horses were.

When your legs are too short to reach the gas pedal easily, it’s difficult to keep a steady speed, and those frozen cow pies sure made the ‘ol Chevy jump sideways. Dad would always have a comment every time I hit one. And learning to bring the pickup to a gentle stop was way more difficult that just saying “whoa” to the team.

If you were a country kid who had to drive the pickup for feeding, you well remember the pickup jumping like a wounded jackrabbit as you tried to find the sweet spot on the gas pedal. With the team, all I had to do was say “Walk up” and we were going, always at the same speed. Oh, the joys of learning how to drive.

As I looked back at learning to drive the team or the pickup for feeding, I noticed that they were both comparable to learning to walk with God. You see, though I held the lines, that ‘ol team of Percherons were so well trained that all I had to do was act like I was in control, but the reality was that they knew exactly what to do in every situation we ever encountered. Yep, God allows us to act like we are in control, but He really is. Regardless of the situation, He knows exactly what to do.

Once again, the team was similar to God in that all I had to do was to give the team permission to “walk up,” and we were moving. Hopefully, we have all experienced the fact that all we have to do is to give God permission to work within our lives and He moves us forward.

That dumb pickup also reminded me of my walk with God. When I first trusted Jesus, it was once again difficult to run the gas pedal correctly. It seemed like we were either running wide open or standing still. It took a while to learn that slow and steady is usually the best way to travel with God. If I allowed the pickup to get to going too fast, dad invariably ended up getting pitched sideways, or even on the ground. The same is true in our Christian walk, if we don’t allow God to set the speed for moving forward, someone else usually pays the price.

As I have mentioned before, I loved listening to the sled runners on the feed wagon whistling in the snow, and the sound of the team’s large feet crunching through the snow. Also, as I learned to trust God, I learned to listen to the beauty of His voice as He spoke into my life through the Bible. One sound was pleasing to my ears the other is pleasing to my soul.

So, whether you are driving a team of horses, or driving a vehicle, or walking with God, learn to listen well. And yes, there will always be some bumps in the road that you have learn to navigate. But much like taking the lines of that big, powerful team into my little hands and telling Nip and Pollie to “walk up,” we each need to give the lines of our lives to the all-powerful God and allow Him to tell us when to move forward, or when to stop and wait. It sure seems like life works better around our outfit when we allow God to drive.

Handing God the lines with you, Neal