Providence road

Providence Road

The sign was old and faded — Providence Road — half hidden behind wildflowers and years of dust. Emily hadn’t meant to turn down it. Her GPS had frozen, and she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere outside of town. She sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

It had been a rough week. She’d just lost her job, her relationship had ended, and her savings were running thin. She whispered to herself, “Figures I’d get lost too.”

The road curved between golden fields and tall oak trees, quiet except for the hum of cicadas. Just when she thought she should turn back, her car sputtered and stopped. Out of gas.Perfect,” she muttered, stepping out and kicking a small rock down the road.

A few minutes later, an old pickup truck pulled up. A kind-faced woman leaned out the window.

“You okay, honey?”

Emily nodded weakly. “Ran out of gas. And luck.”

The woman laughed softly. “Well, you’re on Providence Road. Around here, we don’t believe in luck — just a little guidance.”

The woman offered her a ride to the nearest station. On the way, they talked — about life, faith, and how sometimes doors close so others can open. Before Emily got out, the woman handed her a folded piece of paper.

When Emily returned home later that night, she opened it. Inside was a note:

“Every detour has a purpose. You didn’t get lost — you were led.”

Underneath was a business card for a local clinic hiring nurses — exactly what Emily had been trained for before she gave up years ago.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the name of the road again on the map — Providence Road.

Maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t taken a wrong turn after all.