Clearing a Path

New Years' Day.  It was time to take Arielle, my youngest, to Rexburg for her first semester of college.  I had told Jana I wanted to leave town at 10:00 so we would have enough time to get to Rexburg, allowing for poor roads and winter weather.  We finally pulled out of the driveway at 10:45.  I received the now commonplace chiding by my family about leaving later than intended.

While having our family prayer before leaving I had asked the Lord to bless us in our journey.  I told the Lord I had done all I could to prepare the vehicle for the journey in the face of a winter storm.  However, as I spoke these words I felt convicted, "Kevin, no you haven't done all you could.  You had been prompted to rotate the tires on your van and you didn't do it."  My prayer felt hollow.

As we pulled out of the driveway I was advised by Arielle, "Dad, don't stop.  Keep going."  To appreciate that comment, you must know that more than once, as we have left for a vacation or a much anticipated journey, I have had a list of stops to make before even making it to the freeway.

"I just want to stop at the gas station and check the tire pressure on the car."

So, three blocks from home, I pulled into Larry's Chevron to check the tire pressure on the car.  The tire pressure on each of the tires was low so the kind adolescent attendant brought the tire pressure up to safe levels.  I casually asked if he could rotate my tires.  He said they could the next day.  Then Paul Marler, the station owner, poked his head out of the office and asked what I needed.  I told him.  He suggested I might try Walmart's auto service.

The prompting to take care of this issue was strong enough, that, even facing the ridicule of my family, I turned left toward Walmart instead of right to the freeway.

As I walked into the the auto department at Walmart my family stayed in the van.  The kind employee told me there was only one car in the bay and they would be happy to serve me as soon as it was done.  I returned to the van and told Jana and my two daughters and suggested they come inside to wait.

"How long will it take?"

"Oh, it should only take about 20 minutes."

The previous car took not a few minutes but about 45 minutes.  Finally, the service technician headed for  our van.  He came back a few minutes later, walking, not driving my van to the bay.

"Your tread on the front tires measures only .25 centimeters, below the legal limit for tire tread.  By law we can't rotate them for you because that might make us liable if there were any problems."

"Well, what are my options?"

"The only option we have is to sell you a new set of tires."

I had already considered the question as I had waited and had already decided that I was willing to purchase a new set of tires in the event that the old tires were too worn.

"What tires would you recommend?"

The girls had been wandering around the store, but now rejoined Jana, quietly waiting in the little waiting room.

"Honey, we need to replace the tires."

"How long with that take?"

"About another half hour."

"The girls and I will head over to the McDonalds (inside Walmart) for lunch," Jana replied.  I could tell she was holding on to her patience.

I declined to join them, feeling I couldn't handle the scorn of my family.  I went out to the work area and watched the attendant work on the car.  He worked hard – did an excellent job.  Not 30 but 40 minutes later he was just finishing so I headed across the store to fetch my family.  They were just finishing their lunch so we all headed back to the auto department.

The van was ready.  I paid the bill and we left.

I didn't say anything.  I now felt justified in my prayer to the Lord when I had said, "I have done everything I can to make sure the van is in safe operating condition.  Please bless us as we take Arielle to college."  In the integrity of my heart I could feel peace.

But I felt convicted by my family; I should have taken care of the tires a day earlier, but hadn't.  The girls started chatting again and their native laughing and teasing resumed.  After merging onto the freeway and finally starting our journey, Jana quietly turned and said, "Thank you for taking care of the van and making sure it's safe."

Realizing our history, my patterns and weaknesses, and perhaps recognizing some of the concern I felt in trying to make sure we traveled safely, Jana's comment was the most loving thing I could have heard.  I am so grateful for her kindness, her love and her perspective.

We arrived at our motel in St. Anthony at 6:15.  I had called our motel a few hours earlier, asking about the weather.  "It's been snowing all day and the roads are a mess."  But, by the time we had arrived we had not seen a flake fall.  After arriving at our motel and making a quick trip to the grocery store, it started snowing again, adding another couple inches to the already sloppy parking lot.  As we had traveled across the state, the snow plows had cleared the path before us and we had a safe journey.

Had we left the hour and a half earlier, we would have driven in the eastern Idaho snowfall.  It was as if the Lord had cleared the path before us.  Even so, had we not been so blessed we were still prepared, with new tires, snow chains and new wiper blades – and with the protection of obedience to a prompting to keep my word and the gratitude of a wife who was able forgive my weaknesses and show her love with an expression of that gratitude.
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IF YOU WOULD, PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO COMMENT ON ONE OF THE LOVING THINGS, SMALL OR GRAND, THAT YOU HAVE RECEIVED FROM SOMEONE IMPORTANT TO YOU.

Don't Die Before Your Body Expires

Every once in awhile life asserts itself to let us know that we are not really owners of our mortal lives.  Rather we are merely leasing our time on earth.

My brother-in-law, my friend, Noel, passed away two days ago after a three day affliction where his body simply started to shut down.  Having suffered with muscular dystrophy for the past 8 years his actual passing had to offer him intense relief, even though that is not what caused his death.

Noel is one of those rare individuals blessed with unending compassion, kindness and love.  His was the gift of acceptance: of accepting others where they were, but leaving them elevated to a new place of hope and possibility.

Times like these snap our attention to those things that matter most; the pettiness that the majority of our waking hours are concerned with slip temporarily away as we ponder our own mortality.

In the midst of the goings and comings of the past couple days – the normal busyness that characterizes our current life – Jana and I found a moment to sit on the couch together for a few minutes last night.  We sat huddled at one end taking up occupancy to only 2 1/2' of our 6' couch.  Without looking up she quietly said, "Don't die."

Though we don't know the allotted days of our mortal probation we do have a choice over the quality, if not the quantity, of our lives.  The key seems to be the realization that we don't have much control over the things that act upon us.  But we have absolute control over how we respond to them.

Far too many people will die this year ... long before their bodies expire.  They will die to adventure, to improvement, to learning, to serving, to contributing, to laughing, to dancing, to giving, to love.  And the truly sad thing is that many of these deaths will be suicides.  In Jana's quiet plea, "Don't die", she was sounding from the oceans-deep floor of her soul her most loving thing.  She was saying, "Let's continue laughing, learning, singing, dancing, serving, giving, living and loving for a very long time.

I promise her I will continue living every day. I promise I will not die before my body expires.  I promise I will not die at all but will continue laughing, learning, singing, dancing, serving, giving, living and loving long after my body has been discarded for not keeping up with my spirit.  I promise I will continue living and loving her eternally.
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IF YOU WOULD, PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO COMMENT ON ONE OF THE LOVING THINGS, SMALL OR GRAND, THAT YOU HAVE RECEIVED FROM SOMEONE IMPORTANT TO YOU.