Everything moves very slowly or not at all when it comes to keeping a blog these days. This happened to me at the beginning of December. Now here it is the end of December before I had a chance to get it all written down.
Driving bus in the afternoon . . . turned on to a gravel road. The road grader had just gone.
There was not a track except for what the maintainer had left behind.
I marveled at the color of the gravel, a beautiful rusty brown.
Thought of the satisfaction the maintainance man must have felt to leave this perfect road.
Ellis used to run a road grader in MT when we lived there. He got the whole process down to a fine art. I felt like I was driving on a piece of fine art.
This road made me think of house wives long ago who sanded their kitchen floors. I've only read about this in books . . . The Witch of Blackbird Pond and some of L.M. Montgomery's books. Sounds foreign to me. Why they wanted/needed to put sand on their kitchen floors is beyond me. I'm sure there was a reason for it.
Anyway as I drove down this lovely road and dropped off three students I thought about the past three months of autumn.
September -- hot with not a drop of rain. Day after day of drought.
Bus #7 bumped and skittered across this very same road. There were potholes and rumble strips and dust.
October -- rain or snow all month long. Cool wet rain . . . running down the window panes. Dripping off the ears of corn in the fields. Splashing in the mud puddles.
We were waiting, wondering, "Are we going to have an Indian Summer?"
November -- day after day of sunshine again. Farmers harvesting the crops. So much joy and satisfaction watching the combines and tractors and trucks and wagons . . .
. . . and road graders. They were on a roll, too. Going over the roads, cutting out the pot holes and rumbles strips.
Thought of that jingle we used to write in our friends autograph books.
Your life lies before you
Like a field of driven snow
Be careful how you step on it
'Cause every step will show.
I could say:
Your life lies before you
Just like a gravel road
Be careful how you drive on it
'Cause every track will show.
ooops it doesn't rhyme. How's this?
Your life lies before you
Just like a gravel road
Be careful how you drive on it
You might run over a toad.
Definately not fine poetry. But I thought of how my life is like this gravel road. Sometimes there are deep potholes. Dreadful, bumpy places . . . rumble strips . . . dry dusty times . . .
Then rains come
Cold, dreary, days
Wet, streaming, splashing water
The sun eventually comes out and dries out the muddy places.
It's time for the Master road grader to come along and cut the edges. A furrow of dirt is left in the middle of the road. The blade is slanted just so to make a crown on the road so water will shed properly. The Master comes back again to spread the furrrow out. My road is ready for trucks and cars and pickups and buses to drive on again.
Maybe all those vehicles are symbols of the many relationships in my life. Husband, children
parents, brothers, sisters, extended family, friends, aquaintances, perfect strangers I meet along the way . . .
I am so grateful for Jesus, my Master.
He came to this world as a babe in the manger.
He was willing to give His life for you and me.
a quote from:
Take Joy!
The Tasha Tudor Christmas Book
I salute you! There is nothing I can give you which you have not; but there is much, that, while I cannot give, you can take.
No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take Heaven.
No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take peace.
The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet, within our reach, is joy. Take joy!
And so, at this Christmas time I greet you, with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.
A.D. 1513 FRA GIOVANNI
Best wishes to all of you this holiday season
~ from the Harshbargers!
