The journey...

In 1917, Emerald Jay and Mary Harris packed their few possessions and moved from Iowa to West Palm Beach, Florida. There were no paved roads, no air-conditioning in homes much less cars and real bandits were known to lurk in the bushes alongside of the dirt roads of Florida. The couple had one child, Ned and he was an infant.

About a year later, Ruth Elizabeth was born (July 1, 1918). Her 'baby brother' Dick was born five years later. Their father was a mailman and their mom eventually returned to teaching school. She had been a teacher in a one room schoolhouse in Iowa before the big move south.

Last week my wife and I had the opportunity to take her mom (Ruth Elizabeth - fondly known as 'Grandma') and Uncle Dick back home to West Palm Beach for a visit. It was the first time he had been in over 30 years and she had not been back in almost 15 years. The visit was bittersweet in the full expression of the term!

The two siblings sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation during our two day car trip 'home'. They were giddy and laughing and nervous. They joked and shared short vignettes about the early years. When we arrived to our small rented cottage they both hurried off to their rooms to sleep and give thanks that they had finally arrived for this special week which both had been planning and anticipating for months.

Monday morning my wife and I awoke to quiet laughter in the kitchen. Grandma and Dick were waiting patiently, but ready to get started on this grand adventure. Now 91 and 86 (respectively) they hopped in the car like two kids and both began to give names of streets or institutions they expected to see first.

At this point the trip turned to one of true astonishment. Like children visiting the Circus for the first time they began to chatter. 'Beth, can you believe all these condos? Where do all the people come from?' 'Dick, can you imagine what mom and dad would say if they could see this...? I bet Dad's mail route would be a lot shorter today.' 'Why do they need so many six-lane highways?' 'Did we live on O Street once or twice? You would think some of the houses would be saved...'

The first day was the longest. We drove up and down streets and avenues and with each turn we would hear the mixed sounds of amazement and dismay. 'They tore down the old home place, sis - we use to live right there and now it is a highrise.' 'Back in our day the tallest building was seven floors - I remember taking my first elevator ride in that place.' We tried to find schools and churches and parks and old corner markets. Over and over we could see the discouragement in their faces. Most of the places were long gone, replaced by something shiny and new, or empty lots being prepared for the next building.

One Wednesday morning we visited their 'home church'. It is now a mega church. Many old photos lined one hallway as reminder of a long forgotten past on which the current 'organization' is built. Uncle Dick was especially struck to hear that 'in these bad economic times we had to let our full time chef go...' He joked about that statement for the rest of our stay. His church in the north east might have 25 in attendance on a good Sunday and they are struggling to survive.

But a consistent theme running through our week long journey was the thread of faith in God that had been there for both these 'children' throughout their life long journey. They had faced many trials and both have suffered. While in reasonably good health, they were forced to acknowledge growing physical limitations. The heat - the bugs - the congestion of the big city - the loss of friends and relatives... Each of these issues and many more in their hearts weighed heavy by weeks end.

Yet faith in God for both Grandma and Uncle Dick has served as their foundation. It was a gift from their own parents long ago as they left Iowa for an unknown future. And it has been a constant for these two on their long and winding journey back 'home'. It was not what they expected. It was not what either one had imagined. It was disappointing in some ways. But as we visited graveyards and churches and sights on their spiritual as well as their physical pathways of long ago, there were moments of celebration that God had been there with them and for them all along the way.

I am blessed to be a witness to the faith of this older generation and I pray that as I grow into my last chapter of life journey I too will be found to be more trusting and faithful and filled with that same Spirit. (Happy Birthday, Grandma!)

SHALOM
JBA