The Slow Path

This was going to be a typical morning:

• Get cleaned up.
• Get my wife and youngest out the door.
• Get the other kids fed, dressed, cleaned up, packed, and out the door (whew!).
• Walk the kids to school.

That's one of the beautiful things about living where we do. Sure, we live on a major highway (for Scott County, Virginia) right in the middle of town, but that also puts us less than a quarter of a mile from the elementary school. If it's not pouring or freezing, walking to school is much less hassle than getting two kids in the car, buckled (one of them can't do this herself), and burning the gas to get out of the driveway and up the hill to the school.

So we walk. We walk all the way to the front entrance of the school. I get to hug and kiss the kids and remind them to make it a good day, and I typically exchange a few words with the teacher on bus duty.

It's a small town. I know quite a few of the teachers already.

Today, the teacher on duty was the sponsor of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. She was stressed because she had just found out that she wouldn't be able to gather the FCA for their morning devotions, because the faculty member who was supposed to relieve her from bus duty at that time was not available.

If I were she, I'd have noticed in previous days that the local Methodist preacher walked his kids to school, and he'd be a great person to corner. That may or may not be exactly what happened, but in any case, she asked me to lead the morning devotion, and I said, "Sure".

I'm glad I did. Yeah, my morning run was a half hour later, and so was my celebration of Morning Prayer, but I got to hear the testimony of two brilliant young people. I got to see the witness of about two dozen sixth- and seventh-graders who showed up, sat on cold metal picnic tables on one of the cooler mornings that the late Summer has brought us, and decided to begin this day with a word and with prayer.

If I had driven the kids to school, that probably wouldn't have happened.

I know not everybody has the luxury of living within walking distance of their children's school, but everybody has chances we don't take, probably every day, to take the slow path; to stop, as it were, and smell the roses; to stop and make ourselves available for God's spontaneity.

I, for one, am glad I did. I think I'll keep walking.