by Donna Poole
The Road Less Traveled
by Donna Poole
Life is usually crazy busy for us. I imagine the same is true for many of you.
The past few weeks have been especially over the top with ministry and writing obligations, home repairs, and a health crisis. I’ll spare you the nitty gritty. On top of it all we’re supposed to be getting ready to host twenty-two of us here for Thanksgiving dinner, something we’re really looking forward to even as we hope the paint on the room will be dry.
As I watched my husband, John, and daughter, Kimmee, hard at work painting quite late one night, I reminded them of an old favorite joke of mine. A family had invited a large group to eat dinner with them, and the dad asked his little boy to say grace.
The little boy was feeling shy. “I don’t know how.”
His dad encouraged him. “Sure, you do. Just say what you’ve heard Mommy say.”
The little boy shrugged. “Okay, Daddy.” He took a deep breath. “Dear Lord, why in the world did I invite all these people?”
We’re glad we’ve invited all our people and can’t wait to see them, but we aren’t ready for them yet, so we’ve been working pretty much non-stop, especially Kimmee who’s doing most of the peeling, scraping, and painting. That’s why I was a little surprised when we left church on Sunday, and she asked me if I wanted to take the long way home.
We both had work to do at home, writing, painting…so much work. But did I want to take the long way home? It had just snowed, and our backroads were beautiful. Oh, yes, I did want to take the roads less traveled!
We’ve taken those backroads home often after church, Kimmee and I, since my cancer diagnosis. I used to stand at the door with John, shake hands, hug, and talk to each one of our church family as they left. My heart misses that, but my oncologist team won’t allow it yet because of my practically non-existent immune system. I’m supposed to avoid contact, so Kimmee and I slip in late, sit in the entryway because I’m not allowed in the auditorium, and leave during the last prayer. But in my heart, I’m still there, laughing, talking, crying, and praying with people I love. Taking the backroads home with my sweet daughter eases the ache for me between what was and what is.
And you know? The “what is” must be pretty good, because it’s God’s choice for me right now. Without the cancer and the enforced isolation, I would have been too busy to write these blogs or my books that hopefully mean something to somebody.
Without cancer I’d never have taken the roads less traveled home from church and seen at slow pace the changes in every season. We’ve marveled, in spring, over every sign of vibrant new life. Then came summer wearing its riot of wildflowers and next fall styling her coat of many colors. Sunday our backroads wore mink coats and looked lovely and elegant in white. And peaceful. They looked so peaceful. In a few places, on those backroads, ours were the only tire tracks.
We needed peace. We ignored, for a few minutes, the demands calling us to hurry home, enjoyed God’s beauty, and felt thankful.
There is a time, the Scriptures say, for everything under the sun. Whether I kick Morticia out of my lung, relearn my adult manners, and rejoin my church family in the auditorium, or whether I leave this world, as we all will someday, Kimmee and I know we won’t have forever to meander home down the backroads. Perhaps that’s what makes us all the more thankful for today.
Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers, to you and yours, and I hope you make time now and then to get off the interstate and take a backroad with someone you love.
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These blogs are now available in eBook and paperback on Amazon:
Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter
Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter
photo credit: Kimmee Kiefer