Growing up our road looked a lot like this one, minus the snow of course. Actually, the pot hole black topped portion of the road was the good part. Once you got to the last half before you got to our house, the second to the last on the long country road, was a dirt or dust road. And when it rained there were washboards and pot holes galore until one of the neighbors that had the right tools got out and grated the road. My Mom can clarify why, but all I remember was that their was politics surrounding why the county wouldn't maintain the road. I remember some of our funniest memories growing up was voting on who had the craziest driving skills trying to miss potholes. Mom or Dad? Personally, I think Dad missed the most but was the craziest of the drivers. He'd yell at Mom, "watch out", when a particularly large one would come looming out from around a curve and Mom would swerve almost landing us in a tree to miss it. There was no ditch. If you were going to fast on the washboards the car would do more than rattle. And if it was really muddy we felt like we were in a 4 wheeler slish sloshing around. People were constantly heckling my Dad, writing on the back window of our van, "wash me!". My poor Dad did wash it constantly, but it was a hopeless cause. If it was dry the van or car or truck would be covered in a layer of dust. If it was wet a layer of mud. I hated it when it would rain as a teenager because invariably some part of my clothing would accidentally brush up against some muddy portion messing up my clothes. Which was catastrophic to a teenage girl.
This last year in the area surrounding our old neighborhood many roads developed potholes with the heat expanding the concrete in the roads. Our neighborhood had also put in speed bumps to keep down the speeders cutting through our neighborhood in the morning. As we would drive around my husband would keep the kids in stitches by yelling, "wait for it, wait for it..." and as we went over the bump or pothole, "be donk a donk". Every time we venture back for a visit, we invariably end up playing the same game.
As I pondered these experiences, I thought about how we deal with the potholes in our own lives. Like the road I grew up on as a child, life is riddled with potholes. We can't make it through life without hitting a couple. But do we try to miss them or aim for them? It is obviously much better for our bones and the shocks of our car for us to avoid such pitfalls. So it is in life. But what if we can't avoid a pothole or we land in one anyway. Well I think our attitudes make a huge a difference as to whether or not we will make it through to the other side or sit and bemoan the damage. If we keep going and come unto Christ we can repair the damage of potholes in our lives. So we have great reason to have joy. And maybe when we are on the other side of it we can yell out, "Be donk a donk!". Taking note that we've grown and learned and our ready to move on!
By the way, I am thankful to live in a newer neighborhood that has no speed bumps and no potholes. For the time being, life is a bit smoother :)
1 comment:
I have lived through it all. The reason the road was not graded at that time was the neighborhood was not considered a named street. It was an unknown road. We called it Rainbow Road, but when it was finally named, someone told the county it was Quiet Hollow and so it has been. :)
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