Weather-beaten, but still standing
I didn't know how to get from Houston to Shreveport. I wasn't sure how long it would take or if there was even a convenient route to get there. So I turned where all hip people turn to get directions - Google map.I searched "Houston, TX to Shreveport, LA."
When it brought up the map and directions, I just sat there staring at the screen for a minute, not really sure what emotions to feel.The computer was telling me to take Highway 59 out of Houston and north to Carthage. This meant driving north through Livingston and Lufkin.
It also meant driving past two wooden crosses.
After my friend Josh Bigby was killed in an automobile accident three years ago, his mom, Pam, asked my dad to make two crosses for the crash site. One for Josh and one for his cousin who had been driving.
The first weekend in March 2007, my family packed up the van, gently loaded two white-wooden crosses and headed towards east Texas.On the way there, just as we were crossing the lake, a volunteer fire truck came screaming past us. I cringed. As we got closer, there were more lights and more sirens. There was a car still on fire. There were the sounds of the jaws of life. There were people running to the car screaming and then walking away relieved. There was the sound of a helicopter landing. And there were tears. Tears that came for the entire hour that we were forced to endure a situation that hit way too close to home and struck a nerve still very raw. I cried and I wondered...is this like that night.
The next day, we took the crosses out Highway 59. At the intersection where you turn to Corrigan, we planted them there - side by side - angled to face the highway and far back enough that they might last. My father dug deep holes and set them there. None of us knew how long they might last.
We went out to the cemetary. There was one bright star up in the sky, watching over us and sending us home.
This time as I approached the site, I wasn't sure what I would find. I didn't know if the crosses would even still be standing. But just as the intersection came into site, I could see them. Two crosses were standing, still side by side. I turned on my signal and pulled over to the spot I always do.
I got out of my car. As I walked up to the crosses the first thing that caught my attention was how weather-beaten they seemed. They were a little dirty, the black initials were fading, one was leaning to one side.
I straightened it as best I could. I tried to turn it like it use to be, but it didn't want to stay. The ground was muddy and soft, so I just turned it until it stood upright.
I stayed there for a minute, realizing that it had been a full two years since we put them here. I realized it had been two years since Pam gave me the blue bracelet that I still wear each day. I realized that life had not quit moving since then.
With a kiss good-bye, I headed back to my car. As I sat back in my car I looked at the crosses and realized they were much like us.
Much has happened since we put them there. Pam died in a car accident a little more than a year later and we've all had our ups and downs. We have suffered and cried. We have married and graduated and moved. Life keeps going and we just keep on keeping on.
Like the crosses, we are weather-beaten. But, we are still standing.
"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed...Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."-2 Corinthians 4:8-9, 16-18
When it brought up the map and directions, I just sat there staring at the screen for a minute, not really sure what emotions to feel.The computer was telling me to take Highway 59 out of Houston and north to Carthage. This meant driving north through Livingston and Lufkin.
It also meant driving past two wooden crosses.
After my friend Josh Bigby was killed in an automobile accident three years ago, his mom, Pam, asked my dad to make two crosses for the crash site. One for Josh and one for his cousin who had been driving.
The first weekend in March 2007, my family packed up the van, gently loaded two white-wooden crosses and headed towards east Texas.On the way there, just as we were crossing the lake, a volunteer fire truck came screaming past us. I cringed. As we got closer, there were more lights and more sirens. There was a car still on fire. There were the sounds of the jaws of life. There were people running to the car screaming and then walking away relieved. There was the sound of a helicopter landing. And there were tears. Tears that came for the entire hour that we were forced to endure a situation that hit way too close to home and struck a nerve still very raw. I cried and I wondered...is this like that night.
The next day, we took the crosses out Highway 59. At the intersection where you turn to Corrigan, we planted them there - side by side - angled to face the highway and far back enough that they might last. My father dug deep holes and set them there. None of us knew how long they might last.
We went out to the cemetary. There was one bright star up in the sky, watching over us and sending us home.
This time as I approached the site, I wasn't sure what I would find. I didn't know if the crosses would even still be standing. But just as the intersection came into site, I could see them. Two crosses were standing, still side by side. I turned on my signal and pulled over to the spot I always do.
I got out of my car. As I walked up to the crosses the first thing that caught my attention was how weather-beaten they seemed. They were a little dirty, the black initials were fading, one was leaning to one side.
I straightened it as best I could. I tried to turn it like it use to be, but it didn't want to stay. The ground was muddy and soft, so I just turned it until it stood upright.
I stayed there for a minute, realizing that it had been a full two years since we put them here. I realized it had been two years since Pam gave me the blue bracelet that I still wear each day. I realized that life had not quit moving since then.
With a kiss good-bye, I headed back to my car. As I sat back in my car I looked at the crosses and realized they were much like us.
Much has happened since we put them there. Pam died in a car accident a little more than a year later and we've all had our ups and downs. We have suffered and cried. We have married and graduated and moved. Life keeps going and we just keep on keeping on.
Like the crosses, we are weather-beaten. But, we are still standing.
"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed...Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."-2 Corinthians 4:8-9, 16-18
posted by Tori Watson @ 9:51 PM
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