Kate and I crossed into Canada via a bridge that curved high into the sky and then down again to accommodate ships traveling underneath. Still makes me queasy to think about it.
We drove through forests of pine trees* (I call everything that has needles a pine tree, so they could have been fir or something else). Miles upon miles of straight road between two dense stands of trees. We stopped for food when we could find a restaurant, and for a night's rest when we were too tired to drive further.
On the way home we stopped in Chicago and Cleveland (Rock N Roll Hall of Fame), took in a few museums, stopped at a diner where they didn't take credit cards, and at another who served its 'famous pie.' It was the most unplanned thing I had ever done. I think we should do it again.
The next time, though, I'm going to be looking for Jesus. I know he's out there, traveling the roads, opening up the scriptures, doing kindness, healing souls. It bugs me that I missed him on this first road trip. Unlike the two who traveled the road to Emmaus, I never saw what was probably right in front of my face.
Each day of our lives is a road trip, and Jesus is on the road talking to travelers and there is no reason that you and I can't be some of those travelers. On the other hand, we could also be the face of Jesus to our fellow travelers.
Maybe I don't have to travel all the way to Lake Woebegone country to be a part of a modern Emmaus story. Perhaps you don't either.
No comments:
Post a Comment