Journey of a Traveler

Perhaps I had a dream. Sometimes dreams are vague and short; this one was not. I was cruising along on a wide concrete, multi-lane highway. Distant mountains came into view and diminished as I sped past. Roadway signs clearly marked my route; rest stops and restaurants, signs offering side trips to attractive tourist locations appeared frequently. A pleasant journey overall.

As time passed, the road narrowed to two lanes, then to one and eventually to an unpaved gravel, single lane. Highway signs, rest stops, roadside attractions were now less frequent, the scenery perhaps a little boring, but later I learned there would be thrills and chills further down the road. The bumpy road was uncomfortable at times, but the potholes! I feared for my tires. My vehicle picked up a few rattles as I bounced along this patch of road. I began to look forward to the next fuel stop and the opportunity to check my vehicle's condition and a few minutes to walk off the kinks in my neck and stretch a bit.

The road was poorly marked, but there were few intersections, so chances to become lost were not a problem; however, I began to notice a slight incline. The road stretching ahead was less traveled and gradually wound upward, and the area I was passing through seemed fairly deserted, even lonely. An occasional detour sign slowed me down, but undeterred, I persevered. Most of my fellow-travelers had exited the road but I continued onward, with very few others still on the road. My engine began to overheat as it labored to climb the hill. I had to stop occasionally, open the hood and wait for it to cool down before continuing.

Luckily, I would eventually come to a fuel station along the way, where a mechanic would spot any trouble and repair it and prevent a breakdown. A tune-up aided my car's handling of the elevation without serious problems. As the road wended its way higher, I could see a fork in the road some distance ahead. One appeared to join another wide, paved highway; the other seemed to climb higher still, a barely visible single lane, lonely and even more primitive than I had experienced so far.

I paused at the intersection and read the highway signs: one promised a large city just ahead, with all amenities and entertainment--the other sign announced excellent care for my vehicle, "Repairs, Restoration, Renewal" and "New Cars, Unbelievable Trade-ins".

I pondered this decision, wondering about the two roads ahead. I think of my body as the vehicle; the path toward my destiny offers only two choices. Looking back over my years. I remembered the broad highway when things were easier, more comfortable. I recognize the bumpy road my vehicle is now on and I'm still smarting from some of the potholes I've fallen into. How tempting is the smooth, wide open road? How encouraging is the road promising "repairs, restoration. renewal"?

No contest. The Great Mechanic manufactured this vehicle, my body, and I trust His promise and ability to prepare it (and my spirit) for infinity with Him. I can hardly wait to see His new models!

Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.
Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.

Psalm 90:10, 12

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; And in Your book were all written The days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them.

Psalms 139:16

(I'm at 85 this month, but who's counting?)