The Station
The Station
By Bob Hastings
[Editor`s Note: Dr. Robert J. Hastings who died last year left an impressive legacy. As a minister, pastor, editor, teacher, author, radio personality, columnist, and denominational leader, he cut a very wide swath, indeed. His best known writing is presented here as my last salute to a friend whose acquaintance I first made when we were students together in seminary more than 50 years ago. "The Station" has been printed in uncounted magazines, newspapers, and other publications and twice has been used in Ann Landers` column. Bob Hastings himself spoke of this brief essay as "my all-time favorite." It could well be one of yours as it certainly is of mine.]
Tucked away in our subconscious minds is an idyllic vision in which we see ourselves on a long journey that spans an entire continent. We`re traveling by train and from the windows, we drink in the passing scenes of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at crossings, of cattle grazing in distant pastures, of smoke pouring from power plants, of row upon row of cotton and corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost in our minds is our final destination–for at a certain hour and on a given day our train will finally pull into the station with bells ringing, flags waving, and bands playing. And once that day comes, so many wonderful dreams will come true. So restlessly we pace the aisles and count the miles, peering ahead, waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.
"Yes, when we reach the station, that will be it!" we promise ourselves. "When we`re eighteen…win that promotion…put the last kid through college…buy that 450 SL Mercedes Benz…pay off the mortgage…have a nest egg for retirement."
From that day on we will all live happily ever after.
Sooner or later, however, we must realize there is no station in this life, no one earthly place to arrive at once and for all. The journey is the joy. The station is an illusion–it constantly outdistances us. Yesterday`s a memory, tomorrow`s a dream. Yesterday belongs to history, tomorrow belongs to God. Yesterday`s a fading sunset. Only today is there light enough to love and live.
So, gently close the door on yesterday and then throw the key away. It isn`t the burdens of today that drive men mad, but rather the regret over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow.
"Relish the moment" is a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm 118:24, "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."
So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead swim more rivers, climb more mountains, kiss more babies, count more stars. Laugh more and cry less. Go barefoot oftener. Eat more ice cream. Ride more merry-go-rounds. Watch more sunsets. Life must be lived as we go along.
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