The silence of the Roadmap Company the past 2 months was due to an unexpected sabbatical thanks to a nasty virus we have all gotten to know too well. I find it very appropriate that the first story I am sharing for Josey is titled Scared the Hell Out of Me. He walks us through his memories, and the things that strengthened, and maybe shook the devil out of his soul. He talks about being able to accept the events in our lives, or not accept them but most importantly continue to function and eventually accept the outcome. Events in life that bring us to our knees, like the pain of loss, the fear of death, or the love of holding a small being in our arms, move us with such great emotion it is frightening. It can scare the hell out of us. Maybe it can make us strive to do better in the future? HLA
It’s 3:42 a.m. and I reach for my phone. Somehow the charging cord is tangled in the piece of swamp wood that sits on the nightstand. Years ago, the piece of swamp wood appeared there. A well-placed item by my bride to comfort the soul of the man she loves and understands. I collect the pine fat-lighter wood from the creeks of the swamp. It’s the heart of a pine tree that does not rot once the tree dies. The creeks slowly eat away at the parts of the pine roots that are not filled with this hardy wood, and what’s left is an unusual piece of wood aged by mother earth and time. I bring the wood home and clean it and put a coating of varnish on it. Our home is filled with small and large pieces, but I never asked my bride to bring them in. I think it’s her way of bringing God’s world into our home.
I walk down the hallway and look at the only picture in it. It is our second dog who is now buried in our back yard. As the kitchen comes into view, I see the puppy-size dog crate is gone and, in its place, now stands the larger crate which was the home for our second and third dog. Our third dog died last fall. To this day it’s a subject I seldom speak of. I reach down to the crate door, open it, and say good morning to our fourth dog. Though she has the energy of six children she immediately lays down on the floor and allows me to hold her in my arms and rub her belly. She is new to us and me but has already figured out there is a man in this house who needs the love of a dog and moments on the floor when the house is calm.
I finish loading the truck with my gear and the puppies gear and now it’s time to make breakfast for the boys. Our routine is always the same, a very disorganized fire drill as the boys and my bride exit the house for school and work. The youngest yells out the back window that he loves me and the puppy. Once again, I stand in the yard with dog in hand and watch them fade into the morning light.
Over the next 11 hours the puppy and I drove to the state where it all began. She slept most of the way. I made a few phone calls but mostly listen to the radio and reflected on the days gone by. The scenery changed from a very green and full of life to a dull and very gray landscape. At the end of 11 hours was my mom, patiently waiting and praying for our safe arrival. I’m confident now that I am a parent that worrying about your children is part of the package you never thought about before you had children. I often think about the children I have held as their parents waited for me to carry them out of the hell they died in. They no longer worried but waited for a stranger to bring them home.
Over the next few days mom and I try our best to accept the new norm as most people call it when the plan changes. It’s hard because we sleep in the house dad built and to be honest, he is everywhere. She cooks supper from her iron skillet and puts my plate where dad always sat. I did not say a word but moved my plate to where I sat as a child. There is still laughter in the house and even though its obvious dad is gone with time we have accepted his absence. His absence has allowed for others to come along and sit at our table just like a new tree finding the spot when an old tree died.
As I loaded the truck for the next leg in my journey, I take a walk up in the field where dad spends his time looking over what God created. Dad always said, “to leave the world better than the way you found it”. Simple words from a simple man, but do any of us really leave it better than the way we found it? I can say I’ve tried but I’m not sure if my hands have done all they can do. I walk with the puppy and we visit where my first dog is buried. Though it was long ago it seems like yesterday that I buried her and made that cross out of cedar.
The cedar cross finally rotted years ago, and nothing remains of it. The concrete statue marks the spot where my first dog joined the earth she had grown to love. We walk deeper into the woods to a special spot on the farm. I was not enjoying the cold weather and snow, but it made for a vivid memory of this spot. The ice sickles had formed on the little bluff and the creek was running. As though my first dog was here leading the way for our fourth dog, a sight I will never forget unfolded in front on me. As a child I made a rock bridge across the creek and it’s still there today. The puppy crossed it just like my first dog did.
I gave mom a hug and she loved on the puppy. She said, “be careful and call me when you get home”. The driveway to where it all began was not as long as it has been in the past. I’m not sure if it was the laughter at the kitchen table or seeing life in a dull gray landscape but I was good. My first call on the drive home was to a lady I met years ago after hell rained down on their small town. Death and destruction have forever joined us. I know I’m a constant reminder of the day she wishes she could forget but without that day she would have never met me. We talk about the past, the present, and sometimes I feel we have known each other our whole lives.
As I drove into the night a song came on the radio by Joe Nichols. He’s a newer county music singer but I do like his words. He sang a song called Revelation which is about a man dreaming. The man dreams about a series of events that are dark and then he realizes it’s a dream. I am confident from the house my father built to the place I now call home I have stood at the gates of hell. I am confident I have stared the devil in his eyes, and he has attempted to rot away my soul, but he has never touched the depths of my hardy pine. The evils of man, misguided people, and violent acts of nature have not weakened me but made me stronger. Am I strong from the house my father built, the cast iron skillet my mother still cooks in, the love of a woman who allows swamp wood in her home, two boys who need a man to guide them, or is it the love of a dog who allows me to hold their head in the middle of the night?
I missed the morning’s disorganized fire drill and crawl into bed from an all-night drive. On that piece of swamp wood next to the bed is the dog collar from our third dog. No one asked when I put it there but it’s there. I have written that we must first accept the event and then with time we accept the outcome. I do feel some people never accept the outcome and live in a state of non-acceptance, but they function. I accepted the death of our third dog the moment I held his lifeless head in my hands, but I think I accepted the outcome of his death when I watched a clueless puppy cross a rock bridge. As the miles catch up to me so do the days gone by. I think of how the outcome of life is not what we always want it to be, and I reflect on my father’s words. To leave this world better than the way we found it. Because my life has seen the gray lifeless dark evil landscapes, but I have enjoyed the simplest things that others take granted. My fat lighter soul has been in some deep waters but to this day it’s just my body that is breaking down as it was designed to do. I’ve accepted the loss of life and embraced the outcome. If only someone could hang a dog collar on my hearty pine soul, then I will have left this world better than the way I found it. -WLV
