The Station

by Robert J. Hastings

Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves
on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out
the windows, we drink in the passing scenes of cars on nearby highways,
of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant
hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and
wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides and
of city skylines and village halls.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day,
we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving.
Once we get there, so many wonderful dreams will come true and the
pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How
restlessly we pace the aisles, [disapproving] the minutes for
loitering--waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.

"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry. "When I'm 18."
"When I buy a new 450SL Mercedes Benz!" "When I put the last kid through
college!" "When I have paid off the mortgage!" "When I get a
promotion!" "When I reach retirement, I shall live happily ever after!"

Sooner or later, we realize there is no station, no one place to arrive
at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is
only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.

"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."

It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets
over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves
who rob us of today.

So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more
mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers,
watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go
along. The station will come soon enough.