Saturday, December 27, 2014

Safely Home

December 27, 2014

Driving home in a somewhat reflective mood from the wedding reception of a young woman who's been like a daughter to us since she was a teenager, my mind went back much further than when Karen almost lived at our house, back to my own childhood. The drive home tonight took about twenty minutes, perhaps a bit shorter than the drive I remember as a young boy going to my maternal grandparents on a Friday evening. These Friday evening visits were a constant in my life, part of the steady foundation of regularity that without my knowing it, built into me an assurance that life was orderly, and that God was faithful. We should never underestimate the importance of benevolent predictability in a child's life; it is the foundation of an unshakeable faith.

Yesterday Linda and I drove to town to exchange the gloves I bought her that were a bit too tight on her hands. Too-tight gloves weren't going to keep her hands warm, so the next size up was a necessity. We had a couple other errands to run, so off we went. It was an unusual day for wintry Western New York; the sun was shining. We were driving
a different route into Jamestown, where at one point, trees lined the road. Their shadows made a dappled strobe effect as we drove through a rapidly changing pattern of sunlight and shade. It bothered Linda's eyes, but I remembered that same pattern as my father drove old Ridge Road from Stone Road to Parma Corners where my grandparents lived. I loved it, and every time I see it now, I am instantly transported back to a time and place when all was good.

Tonight as I drove us home, I thought of those Friday drives to my grandparents, and how as a young boy, I was constantly amazed that my father could find his way from our house to theirs without a map. My world seemed a much bigger place back then; today, I navigate much longer trips without even thinking about it, and realize that what seemed like such a mysterious feat is really commonplace. Such accomplishments made my father my hero back then; today, it is his character and faith that remain heroic for me. But it is that ability he had to bring us all safely home that was so impressive to a young boy.

On one particular winter trip, the weather worsened as we drove. Dad had to detour from the normal route, taking us up the Sweden-Walker Road and across the Barge canal. The bridge over the canal back then was single lane. The approach was somewhat steep, and drivers laid on the horn in the daytime to signal their approach. Whoever reached the bridge last had to wait till the oncoming motorist crossed before driving up the incline to the bridge itself. After dark, the oncoming headlights were warning enough. On this particular evening, the temperatures were hovering around freezing and the snow was whipping through the air on the wings of a ferocious wind. The driver a couple cars ahead of us had to stop to let oncoming traffic through, and when he tried to start, found his tires frozen into the slush that had turned to ice in the short wait for oncoming traffic. Three or four cars found themselves stuck fast, unable to move until men from the nearby farmhouses came out with axes to chop tires free. My mother, brother, sister, and myself were sent on ahead in the lead car as soon as it was freed, while dad stayed behind to help free the other cars. Hours later, he arrived, half frozen to the warmth and safety of my grandparent's home.

In this business of life, even the most experienced and mature of us are as little children before God, and his ability to navigate great distances, while a mystery to us, is an ordinary and rather mundane thing to him. He sees each twist and turn of the road, knows in his mind and heart the destination, and has the determination to bring us safely home, no matter how ferocious the storm or how costly the sacrifice necessary. The Bible says, "he knows the way I take," and Jesus himself said he would bring his children safely through every storm. I am grateful tonight for a childhood example of this truth, brought to mind from an ordinary drive home from a wedding.

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