You Have Arrived

      We just spent three days in Austin, where Cyndi attended a workshop and I entertained myself navigating freeways. I should add, while I’m good at entertaining myself, it’s easier when the weather isn’t so hot. I packed clothes for walking around Town Lake, but 90* and 90% was too much for me to handle. I mostly entertained myself under air conditioners.

      Driving in an unfamiliar city is easier than it used to be. All I had to do in Austin was punch my destination into my phone and the nice GPS lady told me turn-by-turn how to get there. And she didn’t scold me like my old GPS helper, who would snidely say, “Recalculating Route,” to remind me I missed a turn and messed up her perfect plan for my life.

      I posted on Facebook: “There aren’t many more satisfying statements than, “You have arrived,” as stated by my GPS when driving around an unfamiliar city.”

      Like when we finally find the restaurant we’ve been circling around, to hear, “You have arrived.” That feels good.

      Or when I wind my way into the parking lot at the Veloway in pre-dawn darkness to meet my brother for a bike ride, to hear, “You have arrived.”

      Or when we pull up in front of our hotel after missing not one, not two, but three exits trying to get there, to hear, “You have arrived.” After being lost, it was encouraging to know we finally had a place to sleep.

      I wish I heard that sort of encouragement more often during my everyday walkabout life.

      Like, for example, when I’ve spent a week or two editing a piece of personal writing but I’m afraid to stop before it’s perfect, how great it would be to hear, “Put your red pen down, you have arrived.”

      Or, after working on a trombone solo so long I’m getting diminishing returns, to hear, “Put you horn in the case, you have arrived.”

      Or after doing ab workouts in the gym, to hear, “Go take a shower, 200 crunches are enough, you have arrived.”

      Or on Thursday when I can’t stop tweaking my Sunday School lesson, to hear, “You already have what you need to say, print it on yellow paper, you have arrived.”

      But on the other side of that desire to know I’ve arrived is … well, sometimes I hope I’ll never arrive. As in, “Hang up your bike, put away your walking shoes, you’ve gone far enough for one lifetime, you have arrived.”

      I don’t want to hear that. How would I learn anything new? Moving long distances has been so foundational to my learning and deepening and persevering, why would I want to ever arrive at the end? I have miles to go before I sleep.

      Or what if I heard, “Take a seat weary pilgrim, you’ve journeyed far enough. You’ve learned enough, read enough, been through your Daily Bible enough, discussed lessons enough, told stories enough, traveled enough long journeys in search of deeper convictions and a changed heart. You have arrived.” Today, a few days before my 68^th birthday, I hope my pilgrim days never end.

      I used to dream of the day when I would know for certain God’s ultimate will for my life, when my career would be settled and successful, when I would reach my marathon running goals (one more), when I would have my life with Cyndi figured out, when I would finally arrive. But … what a boring life that would be.

      One last thing about arriving.

      Following our weekend in Austin, we spent four days in Indianapolis. On our trip home, as our first flight approached Denver, the flight attendants asked us to clean up the area around our seats. About a dozen times. Each attendant took a turn. They repeated it so many times it was irritating, and then it was funny.

      About three hours later, when our second flight landed in Midland, I gathered up my stuff only to realize I was missing my blue file folder. The folder I’ve used to keep my notes for Sunday morning for at least twenty-five years.

      It turned out, all those repeated requests on the first flight to clean up our area were aimed directly at me and my blue folder. And I failed the challenge.

      It was discouraging. I had years of thought and energy in that folder. Not to mention the notes I had been working on for a week.

      Why am I telling you that story?

      Because it was obvious to me that I’m still a long way from arriving. Bummer.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

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