a history so deep it hurts to look

picture found here.

We headed east on Saturday. It was mid-morning by the time we were on the road - my husband and I stuffed in the backseat with his brother while my mother and father-in-law sat in the front seat. We were all dressed in a variation of gray and black, prepared to say goodbye to a 94-year-old grandfather.

He passed on Wednesday evening, surrounded by family. We had known the day was coming, but it still is a surprise when someone who has always been there is no longer present.

The trip was two hours there and then another two hours back. It was filled with laughter and talk and the things family road trips should be filled with. There was lunch at Braum's and then snacks with other family members.

The reason for our trip was not lost on any of us, but we all chose to concentrate most on spending time with family and remembering the time we spent with my husband's great-grandfather before he passed.

I knew him for only a few years, but as is the case with the rest of the family, I was immediately a part of his family. Even before our wedding day. And there is something about that kind of love and acceptance that stays with you for years and years to come. I hope and aspire to be the sort of person who welcomes people into my own family regardless of blood.

This was the third funeral I have ever been to. It is a low number, and for that, I am grateful. Funerals provide a time of reflection. Both reflection on that person's life and reflection on your own life.

One of the things brought up during this funeral was a parable, the parable of the eleventh hour.

In it, Jesus talks about how those who believe in Him will receive the same grace and generosity regardless of when they decided to believe. This is crucial to our walk with Him and crucial to life.

It's easy to judge others for their choices and to believe that we are better because of when we made our own personal decision. And it is also easy to say that it is too late. Too late to believe. Too late to correct wrongs. Too late to ask for forgiveness. Too late to live out our dreams.

But it is never too late.

This struck a chord with me. For many reasons. One of the main reasons is that I concentrate on things happening now. I want all things to line up and work out now. I want to understand my life now. I want to have a direction to move towards and then do just that without anything getting in my way. And then if something does get in my way (which it always does because that's life), I stop and think it's too late.

But it is never too late.

So what do I want to do? What are the things that I am striving for but feel it may be too late? There are many.

And what do I feel like will never happen? So many things.

But it's me standing in the way. It's me stopping those things from happening.  Which means that it is time for me to move out of my own way and me to show up. And it seems like the more I realize it the harder it is to actually move out of the way and the easier it is to stay in the way. Because as soon as the first step is taken, more will follow until I am in an all out sprint towards the things I want.

I write about this a lot because it's a process. Just like a road trip involves a series of turns, a series of exits and entrances to the interstate, and a few stops a long the way, life also involves a series of turns and a series of exits and entrances. Sometimes it is monotonous, and sometimes it is exciting. And while it is in so many ways easier to remain still, it's not better; it's so much better to take that first step and then eventually, arrive at your destination. Or, as is my case, destinations.

What is your destination today?

(title from "elements" by a fine frenzy)