Each Sunday, I drive miles along highways lined with golden and orange trees, collecting little discoveries that I don’t notice during my weekday life.
For instance, this little blink of a town is named for this lantern-topped pole, which just sits there in the middle of the intersection. Seems like it should have a wrought-iron bar with a swinging slate that says, “____ Days Since Last Drunken Midnight Collision With Post.”
Speaking of signs, I approached one and read:
Knee & Tattoo…
I took a second look, and this time understood it as:
Knee & Tool…
Finally, a third glance informed me it was a shop for:
Knife & Tool Sharpening
Which is much more useful, but way less interesting.
Similarly, I caught sight of a large tow truck bearing the logo, “RIP Towing.” It was only when I turned that I saw the rest of the lettering: “TRIP Towing.”
I usually don’t stop and get out during my drives. There’s something about the constant forward speed that is soothing. But this time I had to. Had to.
A day or so before, on my way to Target, I was approaching this intersection. Just after that highway sign, a small truck veered right and disappeared into the trees.
I made two passes in each direction before I saw the hidden opening. It wasn’t a driveway, just tracks that went back into the woods. Nothing in me could resist finding out where it went.
So on this Sunday, I parked a quarter mile back and trooped through the woods along the highway. And I found it.
I stood on the track just off the highway, watching the cars speed past in oblivion.
This is what my Sundays are right now. Driving along familiar stretches of road, finding out that there’s so much more to them than I see in the busyness of ordinary life.
It’s not a bad picture of the way I’d like to approach God.