We aren't lost!

Dad:  Are we lost again?

Me:   We're not lost.  

Both of us together, laughing:  We just don't know where we are!

All my life, my dad and I (and Mom, when she was living) had one thing very much in common.  We love summer, hot weather and sunshine.

When he was able, he and Mom spent a good part of each year in Florida.  People that do that are called snowbirds and I was very happy to join them on some of my vacations as a young adult.  

This was taken at Ft Myers beach, our absolutely favorite place to be in the winter, probably circa 1974. 

Dad has slowed down considerably since then, but as you can see, I haven't changed at all.

Neither of us had been thrilled at the unseasonably rainy spring we had just experienced.  So on a recent Saturday, while I was visiting Dad at his assisted living, the sun beckoned us outside for a drive.  We have done this a few times recently and today as we drove along, I wondered where to go that would be a change for him.  

We drove past my old high school and the cemetery where many of our friends and relatives are buried.  We passed the old Dairy Queen building and the long-gone steakhouse where we used to eat on Saturday nights. We continued past the church I grew up in and where Dad is still a member.  When we reached a stoplight, we decided to drive to Greensburg, a town a few miles away.  Neither of us had been there in many years.

We didn't make it that day either.  

"You know," he said as we drove along, "the old homestead was over there."   He pointed off to the left. where a pretty vista of green grass and trees rested. 

Was it still there?  One way to fine out.  We took the next road to the left.  A few more turns brought us to the church where Dad worshiped as a child.

This is Hogard's Chapel. It is a Methodist congregation.

And, incidentally, if you google it, you will get 10 zillion hits for Hogwart's Chapel.  So don't be confused.  This is not it.

I tried the door to see if it might be open.  Dad told me that his father built some of the furniture that was in the church and I wanted to see it, if it was still there.  But it was locked.  My family has a legacy of woodworking and through the years has created marvelous pieces of furniture. 

I did get to wander through the cemetery while Dad waited in the car.  My dad's parents and other relatives are buried there.

We also saw the one room school house that Dad attended and I regret not taking a picture.  It was called Black Gnat school and has it's own story.  I found this article online.  

The story goes that over a hundred years ago, the people in this community got together on a hot summer day to paint the local one room school house. After getting a fresh coat of white paint on the building, the legend goes that a huge swarm of black gnats engulfed the building, sticking in the wet paint.Ever since that fateful day, this community has been known as "Black Gnat".

We left the church and continued toward his childhood home.  We didn't find it, and came to the conclusion that it was long gone.  

But we had an adventure just seeing what was down the road and around the next curve.  

  It was just plain beautiful everywhere we looked.

Sometimes things looked back.

The road grew more and more narrow and more and more isolated.  After a while, I gave up on trying to be a free bird, and  resorted to MapQuest to get us straightened out.  Eventually we made it to the main road and decided it was time for lunch.  I knew we were truly back in civilization when we reached Chick-fil-a.  Yum.  Waffle fries.

It has taken Dad and me many years to make that journey back through time.  It's something you talk about and talk about, but...  There is always something more urgent.  Or someplace more convenient to go.  

And about journeys.  I think God used that Saturday to remind me that we not lost.  Never.  The beauty of MapQuest is that it can show the road practically to infinity.  But the beauty of the Gospel is that we have a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our paths.  One step at a time.  But with a Savior to love us and a community to walk the path with us, that's enough.

I'm very thankful my dad is still enjoying his path at 98 years of age.