For Christmas, my nephew got me a GPS system for gus. Gus is my ancient, asparaguscolored car, which worked just fine with no bells and whistles, thank you very much. But my nephew worries about me, bless his heart, so now I have an electronic lady navigator to order me around when I drive. I call her agnes. Agnes is my nephew's way of helping his aging Auntie Mae keep out of trouble.

But here's what I've learned: There is no keeping out of trouble.

I don't care how many GPS systems, cell phones, weather radios, antiseptic wipes, emergency flashlights, folded-up fire escape ladders, Band-Aids, canned food rations, or extra rolls of toilet paper you keep hidden in your car or basement or purse, you can't avoid the difficulties of life. It's just part of being human. And personally, I don't believe most trouble comes due to poor planning, or because you weren't "good enough," or because God has a plan for you. It's just part of being connected to this big, complicated, mysterious universe of ours.

Take the GPS system, for example. Merl and I used Agnes when we visited relatives for the holidays, and she did a great job. Of course, we already knew how to get where we were going, but it was nice to hear her talk to us in her perky English accent. But there have been a few times when Agnes has advised me to drive straight into a cow pasture or steered me in the opposite direction I needed to go, and let me tell you, that lady won't take "No" for an answer. GPS or not, there's no avoiding trouble.

That really hit home recently with my friend Pearl. Pearl is part of my Walkie-Talkie group, and she's been missing a lot of walks. Last month, the five other members of the group finally went over to her house and asked her point blank what was going on. The news wasn't good. Pearl has cancer.

I'm still not sure why she didn't tell us at first. People react to bad news differently. Some want to shout it to the whole world; some want to keep it private. But once Pearl opened up to the group about what was going on - her treatments and uncertain prognosis - she felt a little better. I think she even regretted waiting so long to talk about it. I was glad to finally know what was wrong, but I didn't feel better. I felt like somebody had poured ice water through my veins. I know what it's like to deal with cancer. My husband suffered through two years of it and lost his battle 20 years ago. I don't want that for Pearl, for her family, for me.

Before I knew what was happening with Pearl, I worried about all the bad things that might be causing her to miss our walks. Then I decided to stop worrying and focus on all the possible good reasons she might be missing. But in the end, what I did or how I thought or what I said didn't keep trouble from showing up, because I don't have that kind of power. Not even Agnes and her perky little voice could have kept us out of that ditch. Pain, sorrow, bad days-they're all part of the package we've signed up for-along with the joy, the laughter, and the good days.

The funny thing is, now that this has happened to our Walkie-Talkie group, we're closer than ever. Pearl's been walking some, and when she can't, we go to her. We're very tender with her, and with each other. We cry more, but we laugh too, and our laughter is deeper, fuller. We appreciate each step we take, each hug, each opportunity to be together. I can't explain it, but colors are more vibrant, the air sweeter, music more poignant. Life has become richer since trouble moved in.

I'm not suggesting I go out looking for trouble; I still carry Band-Aids in my purse, and I let Agnes tell me where to turn - most of the time. But when trouble catches up to me, and it always will, there's nothing to be done but move on into it, and recognize all the good that comes with it. I won't be denied whatever jewels I can gather along the way.

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