The
Station
Robert J.
Hastings
Tucked away
in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a
long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out
the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways,
of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant
hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of
corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling
hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost
in our minds is the final destination. Bands will be playing and
flags waving. Once we get there our dreams will come true, and the
pieces of our lives will fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. How
restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering
- waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.
"When we reach
the station, that will be it!" we cry.
"When I'm 18."
"When I buy
a new 450SL Mercedes-Benz!"
"When I put
the last kid through college."
"When I have
paid off the mortgage!"
"When I get
a promotion."
"When I reach
the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after!"
Sooner or later
we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once
and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only
a dream. It constantly outdistances us.
"Relish the
moment" is a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm 118:24:
"This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be
glad in it." It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad. It
is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and
fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.
So stop pacing
the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains,
eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch
more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go
along. The station will come soon enough.
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