Carry On

We all need an education in the obvious

Oliver Wyndal Holmes

“I will be the white GMC waiting in the parking lot. The dog will be in the back. ” What’s the dog’s name the vet tech asked. “Peanut,” I replied. An hour later, I went back inside, wondering why the vet had not come out yet. All we needed was a rabies shot. Talking to the lady at the front desk, a man from the waiting area overheard and asked, “Do you drive a white GMC?” “Yes, I do.” The man continued, “When the vet came out to the waiting room and asked who drove a white GMC with a dog named Peanut. I told him I did. I looked down at his bulldog named Peanut. “What are the odds?” I voiced. He laughed, “My dog got your dog’s shot.”                              

Headed to New York City to make my mark on the world, I had big dreams, and I was determined to chase them in the largest, brightest, nosiest city I knew, and as far away from a small town as I could get.

The next time you see me, I am going to be a big star!

Wild Hearts Can’t be Broken.

The mindless passing of strangers and the endless traffic had a certain loneliness to them that began to sink deep within me, only seeming to deepen as I stood on the top of a high-rise apartment building watching the Fourth of July fireworks with a crowd of people I did not know. No one seemed bothered to be standing shoulder to shoulder without so much as an “excuse me” or “hello there” escaping from their lips. How could I be surrounded by this many people, yet feel sadly alone? Not the gentle solitude you feel when sitting on the front porch swing listening to the birds and waving at the truck that passes by. This was a seclusion all its own.

Only partial cascading embers were visible between the skyscrapers. I stood there watching everyone gasp with excitement as the next sizzling crack thundered. What in the world were these people so ecstatic about? I have watched fireworks fall like chrysanthemums from an open sky, landing around an open field of crowded horse trailers and onlookers while horse hooves danced underneath the canopy. I have experienced shooting stars sail across the Midwest open sky and watched them land somewhere behind the pasture hills. Yet, I thought the smell of smog and mildew could produce the dreams I was seeking. Your roots will find you, even among the skyscrapers.

I don’t know what lies around the bend, but I am going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own that bend, Marilla. I wonder how the road beyond it goes, where there is a green glory and a soft checkered light and shadows, what new landscapes what new beauties what curves and hills and valleys further on.”

Anne of Avonlea

The hills of Tennessee found my family. Our quiet community has a nostalgic appeal. The town square remains alive like it was back in the early 1900s. Some of the shops are still original, like Carter's Drug Store and Bagley and Bagley Insurance. Others have taken new ownership, The Python Parlor and the Book Inn, but bearing the same local charm. It’s the kind of store where you are known by name and can “add it to your bill.”

The history of each building has been passed down, and people still gather, shop, and market in the square as they did when horse-drawn carriages left ruts on Mulberry Avenue and the Model T was considered a passing craze. Even fires that have threatened to steal our town square charm have been quenched and told to come no further.

The old Lincoln Theatre has been in operation since 1952. It still has the original marque and marque bulb lighting the entrance. The original box office is where you pay for your tickets and watch the family-owned business teach their children to work beside them. It’s time preservation at its finest. New York’s Broadway, in all its glitter, has nothing on us.

I felt my coat hook the armrest as I was reaching to help Charlotte with her popcorn. The darkness in the movie theater made navigating a tad difficult. I heard my beverage drop and splatter all over the floor, about the same time Charlotte’s popcorn joined my soda. I turned to look at Chuck. His eyes were closed as he turned and walked out to purchase new snacks for the show. I patted his knee upon his return. Reassuring him, this was commonplace for an outing.  

I had just finished the Rice Krispies treats with chocolate frosting. “Charlotte, do you need a napkin for the chocolate all over your face?” No. I can just lick it off. “

My sister and I were visiting as we cleaned up the playroom. “Maybe we have missed our time to know the scriptures deeply, Kris. I mean, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of time to dissect the scriptures. With so many demands on our time, maybe we had missed the opportunity,” My sister shared with concern. I stood there looking at the mess of toys and feeling a bit discouraged. I could hear the older kids running outside to ride bikes while Tyson came into the room crying for his sippy cup of milk, and Charlotte, with my niece, Caroline, were somewhere between the pretend car keys and baby dolls.

She was correct. We did not have the time to know seven different meanings of a Hebrew word or to uncover all the historical treasures of Jerusalem. But then, I found myself sharing, “The deep mysteries found in scripture are enlightened to me through interrupted conversations, making of the beds, and preparing breakfast. The profound concepts of God are found in the teachable moments, in the duties of rocking the cradle and sharing our faith with the next generation. Teaching them to stand on their own begins with teaching them to walk. It’s not the untold mysteries of God that have changed me. It’s the sandpaper I have felt against my will when I have to wash the dishes, figure out the next math mystery, and call upon God when my children are sick. It’s the sprite that hits the ground in the movie theatre as I find patience; the supper that I find the Bible stories come to life, where my kids are glued as I share the lame man lying by the pool of Bethsaida, or the story of Samson and his mighty strength. It’s not a matter of whether I have missed my time, but a desperation to make time to chase God's majesty in the simple, majestic moments right in front of us. We must carry on.”

In 1 Kings 2:1-4, David leaves his final charges to Solomon. “Now the days of David drew near that he should die, and he charged Solomon his son, saying, I go the way of all the earth. Be strong, therefore, and prove yourself a man. Keep the charge of the Lord your God; to walk in His ways , to keep His statutes, His commandments, His judgments and His testimonies…”

As our Pastor pointed out, David doesn’t train or teach here. That has already been done. He reminds Solomon to carry on.

I don’t dream of the New York skyline anymore. I can count the stars that decorate the sky in my own front yard. I can’t select my produce from a sidewalk market stand or hail a cab. But I found out I’d rather help pull weeds from our family garden and take truck rides down an old curvy back road instead. I can carry on with the assignment God has for me, never looking back but continuing in the testimonies of God’s goodness to me. Will you?

…I will carry you; I will sustain you, and I will rescue. Isaiah 46:4