There's a sacred road in every girls life. A road marking every memory and moment of discovery. A road defining who she is and who she is to become. A road reminding her of where she started, and how far she's come. The road holds secrets: whispered on the wind. Feelings. Thoughts. Long talks with God. Contemplation. The road is hers, it belongs to her alone. Her steps: one at a time are recorded in the dust. She was here, and continues to move on.
The tracks marking travel continually change. The little feet traveling grow little by little, year after year. The tracks sometimes mark straight; sometimes more random: in those times of dancing. They sometimes mark detours: especially in the spring when wild flowers are ripe for bouquets. The tracks sometimes mark speed, and other times a reminiscing day-dreaming pace. Dreams are contemplated on this road. Secrets shared. Tears sometimes shed.
Life happens on this road...sweet times, difficult times, that growing up and becoming someone. This road will forever be etched in a memory. The sound of a river near by, the train whistle and nearby tracks, wild flowers and summer evenings. Dancing to the beat God created within. And....learning to trust Him. A journey.
This is my road, Strawberry Road:
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| Yes, a Real Road |
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| With Memories.....with Loved Ones. |
This past weekend, I had the opportunity to again venture north to visit my parents. I love these trips. I don't mind five hours with my kids, they're good travelers. We makes stops, and sometimes explore. I love teaching them as we go and sharing memories of places we drive through. I admit, I am a closet romantic and am in love with time. I celebrate the passage of time and places marked by it. I guess one reason I love heading north is the travel straight through "home".
I love that there's only one north-south route through our great state. I also love that my childhood haunts parallel the great highway. I can see moments from my childhood out my window as I pass by. I remember picking apples from THAT tree near the highway. I remember walking the tracks and listening for the train whistle (the same tracks have since become a state funded walking path). No more is there a train whistle....but its in the recesses of my memory, and oh the day. I remember the smell of the lumber mill, and day dreaming at the bridge on warm summer evenings. These places are etched in my memory, precious to me. They still beckon me as I pass. Places and moments......on Strawberry Road.
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| The Old Bridge |
As we drove past "home" this weekend, I couldn't resist the urge to linger. I had to stop. I needed to stop. There is still a part of me here. My journey brought me here, and I admit, I haven't totally left. I may never. There will always be a part of me here.
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| The Old Train Tracks |
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| Memories on the Wall |
Its amazing how God works sometimes. I had an overwhelming urge to share this with my children. We stopped at the "old bridge". I used to come down to the bridge to think. In the summer and fall, the water level would drop, and I could sit under the bridge. I even wrote my name on the wall. This place was "my" place.
And, as I showed my daughter around this weekend, we found my name still written on the wall. After 20 years! My last name has changed...and the fun part: there was a faint "+ T" under it. Tim's name must have washed off, but I had enough to show her. "This is me sweetie....the me, before you."
She looked around and marveled at the landscaping, while my others viewed from the car window. There was something SO special about sharing this with my girl.
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| Sharing |
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| My |
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| Journey |
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| With Her.... |
Passing things on.
She, herself, is walking her own road. She's on her own journey. Hers will resemble mine a little, but it's also distinctly different. Her markers are unique to her. Her special memories and moments. Her triumphs, her hard times and her wonderful summer evenings. God has given her unique shoes and a beautifully unique mind. Her road at this time is inner-woven in mine. I thank God over and over for that. But there will come a time when her road sets out in a different direction.
I pray that when she looks back on her childhood she relishes those memories. I pray her journey is sweet and that she holds tight to her Savior. That when she drive's through "home", she'll have.......... .......a Strawberry Road.
