The End of the Line

For all the years I lived in Tennessee and for all the years my dad worked for Southern Railway, I had never visited the Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum. Oh, I had plenty of train exposure, including going to work at the railyard with Daddy more times than I can count, riding the train to visit my Granny in Kentucky, and having my own model trains that I would set up in the den of Mom and Dad's house. My dad used to say that a love for trains gets in a person's blood and never leaves ... and after my trip to Chattanooga in September, I wish Daddy would have been able to meet his great grandson Ahmed ... the little guy loves trains more than any kid I've ever known. So when my sister told him she was going to take me and him to the train museum, he was bouncing off the walls with excitement to show me his beloved train place.

I knew as we pulled into the parking lot that the adventure would be one to remember ... train cars filled the space in front of the museum, red cabooses, yellow engines, silver passenger cars. Little Ahmed's eyes lit up as he told me what each car was as we walked through the train lot, his small hand tucked securely inside of mine. My sister purchased our tickets for us to ride the old-fashioned, refurbished passenger train while Ahmed and I looked at all the train items in the gift shop. We then made our way outside to wait for the train to return from its previous run so that we could board it and begin our own journey. As the train rounded the curve and the engineer blew the whistle, my 4-year-old great nephew squealed with anticipation and asked me ... "Aunt, Terrie, Aunt Terrie ... can you not wait to ride the train??? It will be so fun!!!" Memories of my own rides on trains in years gone by washed through my mind as the conductor, dressed in historical conductor attire complete with white gloves, shouted "All aboard!" and took our tickets.

The entire ride lasted a little over an hour and a half and just as Ahmed had promised, it was great fun. But it was what occurred at the mid-point of the trip that stuck with me ... it was that part of the adventure that God has brought back to my mind in a big way this week. After riding for about 25 minutes, the train slowed to a stop and the conductor invited us to disembark stating that we were at the end of the line. I was more than a bit curious as to how we were going to return to the station if we were at the end of the line, thinking perhaps we had to switch trains. The conductor led us to an open, giant round area that had one single track with a small shack-like structure at the end. He stepped up on the ledge of concrete that surrounded the area and told us that it was called a roundhouse and that the track in the center was the turntable. I was completely fascinated as he spoke about the history of the roundhouse, saying that the one in Chattanooga was one of the few remaining operational ones in the country. We then watched as the engineer carefully positioned the engine on the turntable and the conductor entered the small shack and operated the controls that turned the engine around to face the opposite direction so that it could then push the train rather than pull it ... the engine was specially equipped for that specific purpose ... both pulling and pushing the train.

As I climbed back on the train that warm September afternoon, I knew there was a lesson in what I had just witnessed and I've wondered more than once over the last months just what that lesson was. I think God sometimes allows His lessons, His truths, His teachings to rest in my mind and heart for a while until such time that He deems them necessary for me to understand. So here's the thing ... so here's the thing ... I wonder how many times I've written those four words in my posts, and I wonder how many "so here's the thing" moments God has sent my way. I wonder how many I've understood and how many I've missed. So here's the thing about the train and the roundhouse and the turntable ... for as much as I could see, when the train reached the end of the line, our trip was over. I didn't know that the engineer and the conductor intended to turn the engine around ... to change the direction of the power source for the train. I didn't know that the two men intended to work together to turn the end of the line into a new beginning for the train. I didn't know that there was already a plan in place to keep the train moving along the rails so that we could complete our journey. All I could see was that we were at the end of the line ... I could only see the end of the line because I couldn't see beyond that moment.

Tomorrow marks the end of the line for this year, and it's been a less than stellar year for me ... a year in which I have often felt that I took one step forward and then a dozen steps back. A year that has caused me to ponder the meaning of my very existence, to search in a way I never have before for God's purpose and plan for me, to teeter on the edge of the deepest canyon I've ever encountered. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to find my center any longer. While everyone around me is excited and anticipating what the new year may bring, I find it difficult to think of what lies ahead. Each day is the same, with one day blending into the next, and I'm having great difficulty seeing beyond the moment, seeing beyond the end of the line. And yet ... and yet I also find myself contemplating the possibility that there could be a roundhouse ... a roundhouse with a turntable waiting for me to arrive so that the engineer and the conductor can turn my engine around and send me back in the right direction.

My prayer for each of you is that God will bless you in the coming year ... that you will know Him in a way you never have before ... that you will rest in His grace and flourish in His mercy ... that you will look for Him in all the big and little things of life ... that you will love Him and one another deeply and fully and completely and unconditionally ... that you will laugh freely and often ... that you will treasure the moments, both good and bad, for when it's all said and done, it truly is the moments that matter the most.

A happy new year to each of you, friends ... a happy new year.