Mornings arrived way too soon in the summer of my teenage hood.
This stark routine of school days had ended and late nights and even later mornings were my routine for the next couple of months. It wasn’t just a teenage thing, my whole family seem to hang on to this routine no matter what their ages or the seasons of the year.
But bills had to be paid and my dad’s gravel business woke at the crack of dawn. But my drive to join my dad on the gravel truck for the day trumped my sleepyhead. So off we went, gears shifting every second to get off our gravel country driveway, the morning sun peeking over the horizon in the distance over the farm fields as a new day greeted us.
By now I was fully awake as I settled in to my co-pilot chair. My dad settled in his captain’s chair, one arm perched on the ledge of his driver side open window, working indiscriminately on his chocolate farmer’s tan on his naturally freckled skin, which happen easily as the summer progressed.
My dad’s competence stood tall in my heart as he directed his gravel truck, the one they called the Louisville, steering easily with one hand. I felt like nothing could go wrong when my dad was behind the wheel, It was a security I cherished and didn’t ever want to take for granted… It just was.
Many deliveries of topsoil for gardens and yards were delivered those mornings to eagerly waiting customers, ready to plant and landscape.
I watched as my dad would proceed to dump the load of dirt in just the precise spot asked for. He then would climb out of the truck in his usual one swoop motion as I watched out the extra large front window from my seat.
I couldn’t hear what was said between my dad and the customer at the moment, but the body language, hand gestures and smiles on their faces as they communicated, told me everything my teenage mind could digest… All was good.
My dad had delivered, the customer was happy.
Although I felt my dad was invisible, he was human. His massive stroke he suffered 12 years ago now proves how human we are on this planet.
As the clock struck 10 a.m on my favourite watch, wrapped snuggly around my wrist, I sat a little closer to the edge of my copilot seat, hoping the rumbling Louisville would make a stop at the hometown coffee shop. I with my chocolate milk, and dad with his coffee.
I would get to sit with my dad as his coffee cup was filled and refilled many a time by the man with the white long apron, the owner of the place, as he sat alongside others who had listened to their watches.
They all caught up on the latest local news…. And they laughed. Loud. I loved it. I loved watching my dad laugh. He was in his glory. As I sat with my dad, among strangers and known company alike, I felt secure just to sit with my dad.
Thinking back to those days, it reminds me of how secure I feel when I sit in the company of my God, no matter the strangers or familiar company.
I have come to know, when I look for a coffee break with my God, He is always available.
When I looked out that front window of the Louisville so many years ago, watching my dad with the customers, he was taking care of things as I watched.
How often does our God not just take care of things when we step back, and He says to us: “just watch”.
He sits with us when we sit with those who are strangers, and those who are not. He is our security in the midst of all we do… Our mediator if we but let Him sit with us in all life matters and the things we don’t know how to handle.
Those Louisville days with my dad are fond memories buried deep in my heart.
And as I remember them, they remind me if we but sit with our God and let him be our security, mediator, and coffee break partner in our daily lives, we can rest in Him while He does what He does best.
And that warms my heart..
As I remember the days of the Louisville.