The Long Walk Home

When I was in the first grade, my next door neighbor, Margo, was in the fifth. Every day she would walk me to Fishweir Elementary School. The walk was less than a mile with the shortcuts, but to a first grader, it seemed a long way.

Several months after school started, Margo got sick. When the dismissal bell rang, there was no Margo, I went to the office and told them I did not know my way home.They called my dad.

I was so glad to see him when he arrived until he explained that it was time for me to walk alone. I cried and protested, but he assured me he would follow in the car and I would be safe. I was very afraid, but given no choice, I began. True to his word, he followed.

Then we came to one of the shortcuts, the only way I knew. Daddy couldn't drive across the field. Surely he would let me ride now. But, no, he said he would be waiting on the other side. And he was.

The final shortcut was across a foot bridge, but that was only a half a block to the house. Finally, I was home free.

Little did I know decades ago that the walk home was a blueprint of my life to come. There were shortcuts I would take because it was all I knew. When I did, I lost sight of my Heavenly Father, but when I recovered myself, He stood there waiting.