My last column focused on wayward spiritual steps. Today we’ll consider more down to earth matters. These are just three of many possibilities. Steps to nowhere are all around us.

Let’s begin with the wasted steps of going in circles. Mable, a brown mare from early childhood, is a good example. The aged horse had retired from the circus but not her circular routines.

Mable treated the pasture like a show ring. Riding her was like being on a merry-go-round. The only exception was when she had company. When Bryce Bledsoe rode his horse over to our place one day, Mable pleasantly surprised me by running beside Red. As soon as Red left, however, Mable corralled my dreams of becoming a cowboy. 

Albert Einstein reportedly said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.” That seems akin to going in circles. Mable and I could have enjoyed countryside romps, but she refused to change. Sometimes it’s easier to do the same thing rather than the sane thing.  

Laziness is another set of wasted steps. Once again, a horse from childhood helped teach me a lesson. Chief was a fine-looking Appaloosa, but noticeably pudgy when he came to our farm. His sagging belly should have tipped us off that he wasn’t a fan of running. Chief was slower than an old opossum on a midnight stroll.

After weeks of trying to coax him to hasten his pace, I braided orange baler twine into a homemade riding whip. I was determined to establish who was in charge and that’s sort of what happened. Thankfully I jumped off as he dropped to his knees, just before he rolled on to his side. That followed an attempt to crush my leg against a tree. He was not intimidated by soft twine.

Years ago Daddy told me a story about laziness that dates back to the early days of farming, the era of mules and hand tools. A local fellow, whose name I’ve long forgotten, was relaxing on his front porch in a rocking chair, unconcerned about the abundant weeds competing with his young cotton. 

A well-intentioned neighbor stopped by, hoping to encourage some much-needed effort. “I believe that nutgrass is going to eat you up,” he said to his friend. “It may,” replied the man, “but it’ll have to come up here on the porch and get me.” The level steps of laziness require little effort and offer commensurate rewards.           

We’ll close with indecision as a third step to nowhere. I heard a story at a bank convention years ago that illustrates the point.

When a car ran out of gas on a busy California freeway the driver coasted to the roadside. He saw a nearby station but there were 16 lanes of traffic to navigate. The fellow nervously tried to cross the busy highway several times, but kept retreating as vehicles approached. 

A long, black Cadillac pulled over to the side of the road. Its heavily-tinted driver’s window was slowly lowered. Much to the man’s surprise a giant squirrel was behind the steering wheel. The squirrel peered over the top of his sunglasses and looked the man in the eyes. “It’s not as easy as it looks is it?” The steps of indecision mostly go back and forth, keeping us right where we are.

I’m out of space and unsure how to end this column. Maybe that’s evidence of indecision. Or perhaps my inclination to close without more effort suggests a lazy approach to writing. Whatever the case may be, I feel like I’m going in circles. 

As a former pastor, Al Cadenhead, often said as he concluded his sermons, “That brings us back to where we started.” Whether the matters are spiritual or more down to earth, one thing is for certain. Steps to nowhere are all around us.