Delighting in a Sunday afternoon drive

Have you ever participated in a Sunday afternoon drive? If you haven't, you've missed a rare pleasure -- but it isn't too late. A Sunday afternoon drive is waiting for you whenever you choose to take the opportunity.

As I grew up on our farm in Southeast Missouri, our family often took a drive after dinner. My dad was always the driver, and my brother and I excitedly piled into the car. I doubt, at our ages then, that we actually enjoyed the scenery as much as our expectations of the ice cream cone, piled high and begging to satisfy our appetites. The drive gave everybody a chance to get away and daydream while we rode. Now, my husband and I still take our coveted Sunday drives.

"Ellen, what do want to do today," I heard my husband say, from the back of the house. He probably knew what my answer would be. "How about taking a drive into the hills with the curvy roads and steep inclines," I said. He agreed and off we went. The excursion happened last week. In my opinion, the scenery around my home town of Cape Girardeau offers much beauty and diversity. We situated ourselves in our blue Honda Fit and began our drive.

I find that I receive an abundance of inspiration and solace on those trips. We talk little, but observe all we pass. We, again, drove up and down the winding roads, noticing all sorts of things we had neglected to see before. The farther we drove, the more relaxed I became. All my cares stayed behind me, as we floated along and. I soaked into the luxury of what was around me. As I sat cushioned in the soft surroundings of the car, I felt how fortunate I was, to be able to experience this enviable outing. Only God could have created the landscape, the cool, but nice, feel of the air and the privacy of being alone with no distractions.

My husband and I ended up at the historic Burfordville Mill and covered bridge -- a favorite spot. The campground that stretched along beside the mill welcomed us to stay and visit awhile. The first day of spring is right around the corner, but the grounds seemed lonely for their expected seasonal guests. The old mill bridge is an awesome old structure that stretches across the Whitewater River. Although we were unable to drive across the covered bridge, its demeanor brought back imaginings of what life must have been like, when the mill and bridge served a necessary purpose.

I walked across the well-kept bridge and onto the gravel road that stretched beyond the stained dark wood structure. As I set my feet onto the damp gravel, caused by recent rains, I was greeted by open fields, and half-dead, half alive-trees and greenery, surrounding the farmland. I could see miniature buds barely peeking out from the limbs of the partially bare trees. The bushes and trees were different sizes, shapes and types--all to serve a purpose in the scheme of God's artistry for the earth. "God made everything beautiful in its time" (Ecclesiastes 11).

I could see between the mostly grey limbs, as they stretched to grab hold of new life, and a chance to, again, produce fruit, for, at least one more spring. I spread my arms open to take in the peace, quiet and mystery surrounding me. The chill of the air brushed my face and I pulled my coat closer around me. I would love to live here, I mused, as I took in the breathlessness of my surroundings, but it was time to go.

That Sunday afternoon drive invigorated my soul and, brought me into what's truly important and the continuity of life. Everything has its own seasons -- from nature to humans. The sun always follows the darkness, seasons keep their rhythm and babies have their order of growth. I was sad to leave my dreamland, that day, and come back to reality, but because I has escaped for, but awhile, my inner battery was recharged. I felt like I was, again, ready to welcome the daily, right back at home. There was little expense in taking our expedition and time was our only requirement.