A friend at church shared a story years ago about prayer and country roads. As a young girl, she was excited about going to the county fair in town the next day. But her dad gathered the family around and said he would have to work putting up hay, so they could not go to the fair.
Dejected, that night Beverly prayed that it would rain so her dad would not be able to put up hay. Then she realized that if it rained, the road would be too muddy to get to town. She amended her prayer and asked quite specifically that it would rain just enough to wet the hay, but not so much to make the road impassable.
I thought about Beverly’s prayer last weekend as I visited my dad in the country. At the time, I was praying that both my car and the road would just hold together until we reached pavement.
The trip gave a sense of time travel, like going from 2008 to 1908, when folks in the country holed up for the winter and didn’t venture out until spring and the roads dried up.
The original Missouri road tax campaign in the 1920s went something like “Get Missouri out of the mud.” Seriously. Gravel roads and black-topped highways opened up a whole new world for farmers and rural residents.
That gate just about swung shut this year.
It seemed like 40 inches of snow could undo 80 years of engineering progress. The problem was not washed out bridges or low places under water. In those cases, there’s usually an alternate route around the obstacle. This time, entire road beds simply collapsed under the weight and water. The problem started at the driveway and stretched out in all directions. I’ve heard stories of people who can barely get down their road in four-wheel drive vehicles.
In Atchison County, Kan., someone put up a homemade sign warning that a gravel road had been closed due to lack of attention from the township board.
That lack of attention could probably be fixed with a new tax levy.
As more people move out to enjoy the country on small acreages and more farmers and their spouses take jobs in town, the problem is only going to intensify.
Several counties have eliminated township boundaries altogether and consolidated maintenance barns. Now, I can’t say if these counties have better roads or not, but in our mobile society, it seems like a more modern approach to business.
My friend Beverly, by the way, reported that it did rain that night she prayed. When her dad inspected the road, he decided it would be just dry enough that he could get the car out and the family made it to the fair.
Maybe township boards ought to start sending up prayers for rural roads.
