It’s Cara. I'm headed north Friday, for a little visit and a lot of work. It's a circuit I make regularly, and I have come to relish the moments. Of course, I love the time at my sister’s (and co-author’s!). We laugh, chat, catch up, work like crazy women, pray with complete reliance, and are blessed beyond measure. What is more interesting to me is how I have come to relish the journey.
These past few years – maybe the past decade – God has been chipping away at my little task-oriented heart. With steady, patient lessons He is teaching me to raise my eyes from the task to focus on the people the task serves. Such an easy idea, but it has been so difficult for me to really absorb. A very wise brother in the Lord once warned me, “Be sure you love not
the work of the Lord, but the Lord of the work.” Amen! I can hear Jesus saying, "Mary has chosen the better part..." in my mind's ear.
There is a house that burned down, Christmas 2009. On the way north, we noticed their lights up, and their tree shining through the window, that Christmas Eve. It was deeply cold that night, and late as we drove on, but I remember. It had always been one of my favorite houses on the way – an old farmhouse full of kids, with a couple of pickup trucks outside. I remember I thought the family seemed happy. Then, the day after Christmas, on our way
south, to see the smoldering, smoking remains of a home just took my breath away. The red-glow in the big beams, the fireman standing guard, the whole scene caught in my memory in the instant that our car zipped past. What happened? I’ll never know. But, recently they are building again, and I watch with each trip, to see how it's coming. Do they have any idea that people who will never know their name pray for them - have shed tears for them? That their
front-row seat to highway 65 has given thousands of passer-by a front-row seat to their personal tragedy? That some of us wonder, some of us care, some of us lift them before the Father? I have decided to stop, next time they’re home as I zip by, just to let them know.
And soon - very soon - the lambing will begin and tiny new lambs will spring around like Tiggers in the pastures, watching with large eyes as we zip by, just a few feet away. They play with boundless enthusiasm - putting their tiny feet up on the fence to watch me back. Our eyes meet. Their heads turn and follow my car out of sight. Just babes on this highway, they will soon learn to give the fence a larger berth, to be more wary, less interested. I see me, as I
see them, pulling away from the rush. I love their innocence and energy, and their later shy pulling-back is a mirror held up in challenge. Does the constant stream of humanity in my life make me less interested, less eager, less energetic to meet those who pass my way?
This trip, I've noticed something new. Along the way, an old oilfield, long nearly forgotten, seems to be finding new life. The bobbing oil pumps are coming back to life - some rusty with abandonment, some painted to look like grasshoppers, or ants, all now lifting their heads to look in amazement before they drop back down to earth - up, down, up, down - I want there to be a rhythm, a pattern, but each seems to move to its very own unheard melody. It took a long tracing of thought to discover why this brought a smile and a lift to my heart. I guess anything not serving its purpose casts a sad shadow; and the redemption of even old machinery to meet needs today is a good reminder to me of the long arm of the Lord. Old machinery sometimes is beyond reclamation, but old lives are never beyond reclamation by God. Renewal is His specialty.
There truly is joy in the journey.
Classic Christianity
These past few years – maybe the past decade – God has been chipping away at my little task-oriented heart. With steady, patient lessons He is teaching me to raise my eyes from the task to focus on the people the task serves. Such an easy idea, but it has been so difficult for me to really absorb. A very wise brother in the Lord once warned me, “Be sure you love not
the work of the Lord, but the Lord of the work.” Amen! I can hear Jesus saying, "Mary has chosen the better part..." in my mind's ear.
There is a house that burned down, Christmas 2009. On the way north, we noticed their lights up, and their tree shining through the window, that Christmas Eve. It was deeply cold that night, and late as we drove on, but I remember. It had always been one of my favorite houses on the way – an old farmhouse full of kids, with a couple of pickup trucks outside. I remember I thought the family seemed happy. Then, the day after Christmas, on our way
south, to see the smoldering, smoking remains of a home just took my breath away. The red-glow in the big beams, the fireman standing guard, the whole scene caught in my memory in the instant that our car zipped past. What happened? I’ll never know. But, recently they are building again, and I watch with each trip, to see how it's coming. Do they have any idea that people who will never know their name pray for them - have shed tears for them? That their
front-row seat to highway 65 has given thousands of passer-by a front-row seat to their personal tragedy? That some of us wonder, some of us care, some of us lift them before the Father? I have decided to stop, next time they’re home as I zip by, just to let them know.
And soon - very soon - the lambing will begin and tiny new lambs will spring around like Tiggers in the pastures, watching with large eyes as we zip by, just a few feet away. They play with boundless enthusiasm - putting their tiny feet up on the fence to watch me back. Our eyes meet. Their heads turn and follow my car out of sight. Just babes on this highway, they will soon learn to give the fence a larger berth, to be more wary, less interested. I see me, as I
see them, pulling away from the rush. I love their innocence and energy, and their later shy pulling-back is a mirror held up in challenge. Does the constant stream of humanity in my life make me less interested, less eager, less energetic to meet those who pass my way?
This trip, I've noticed something new. Along the way, an old oilfield, long nearly forgotten, seems to be finding new life. The bobbing oil pumps are coming back to life - some rusty with abandonment, some painted to look like grasshoppers, or ants, all now lifting their heads to look in amazement before they drop back down to earth - up, down, up, down - I want there to be a rhythm, a pattern, but each seems to move to its very own unheard melody. It took a long tracing of thought to discover why this brought a smile and a lift to my heart. I guess anything not serving its purpose casts a sad shadow; and the redemption of even old machinery to meet needs today is a good reminder to me of the long arm of the Lord. Old machinery sometimes is beyond reclamation, but old lives are never beyond reclamation by God. Renewal is His specialty.
There truly is joy in the journey.
Classic Christianity
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