The Road that Leads to the Rock
When I was sixteen, I accepted a summer babysitting job to fill the long days that stood between tenth and eleventh grade. My job description was simple. I was to provide “good old fashioned summer fun” for two rambunctious nine-year-olds. Filled with energy myself, I was up for the challenge. Bike rides down obscure country roads, photo scavenger hunts through the neighborhood, and mud walks in the rain were among our frequent adventures.
During our final afternoon together, the kids and I decided to take a picnic lunch to Big Rock Park. Though picnic tables greeted us as we pulled into the park, we had planned, instead, to enjoy our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches atop the gigantic rock that stood incongruously in the middle of the tree-jammed nature reserve. While I had assumed we would hike to our destination together, my competitive young friend Kelly suggested that we each take a different trail and race to the rock.
“The first one there is the winner!” he declared with a grin.
I’d been to the park many times, but I was not familiar with every path that meandered through the hundred acres of native habitat. “I’m not sure that all the trails lead to the rock,” I hesitated.
“Sure they do,” Kelly said with confidence. “They might wind around differently, but they all end up in the same place.”
“Please,” Chassity pleaded, eager to accept Kelly’s challenge.
“Okay,” I conceded. “We’ll meet at the rock!”
I watched as the two tow-heads disappeared into the trees. Then I decided to err on the side of caution and take the “old familiar” route to the our meeting place. Not wanting to upset the friendly competition by arriving first, I leisured along the grassy path and savored a few quiet moments to myself. Soon the spaces between the trees began to broaden, and bright sunshine cut through the thick foliage. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I stepped into the clearing and spotted a blonde figure jumping up and down on top of a gigantic gray rock.
“I won! I won!” cried Chassity with a victory jig. “I thought I’d found a short cut,” she explained as I joined her, “but really, it was just a curve that led be back to the same old path we always take here.”
“So we were walking the same path?” I asked while I wondered how I’d missed her.
“Well, not exactly,” Chassity giggled, “I was running!” We laughed and unpacked our picnic lunch. “Kelly should be here anytime,” Chassity assured me.
Moments later, I began to worry. “Do you suppose Kelly’s playing a trick on us?” I mused.
“Naa,” Chassity replied as she munched on her sandwich, “He never misses a chance to eat!”
Hungry or not, Kelly did not show up in time for lunch. After an anxious half-an-hour of waiting, I decided to search the trails. Taking Chassity’s hand firmly in mine, I wove in and out of the tree-lined paths and hollered Kelly’s name. When the futility of our search became evident, we headed back to the car. With every step, I prayed that Kelly had had enough sense to go back to our starting point once he realized he couldn’t find the rock. Sure enough, as the parking lot came into sight, I spotted a sheepish young boy hiding behind my blue Toyota.
Unsure of whether to yell at himor take him into my arms and dance,I ushered my lost child into the car and offered him a long-overdue peanut butter sandwich. As I drove home, Kelly told us how he had taken several different paths in hopes of finding a shortcut, but each path he chose kept winding farther and farther into the woods. At last, he had given up and retraced his steps. Disappointed and tired, he had reached the car just moments before we had.
“I don’t get it,” Kelly grumbled, still annoyed at having lost our little race. “I was sure that all those paths led to the rock in the end.”
While that excursion in Big Rock Park occurred decades ago, the spiritual lesson brought to life that day has not been lost to this mom of five. All roads DO NOT lead to the Rock! In the words of Jesus, “But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” (Matthew 7:13-14). Young Kelly’s pride may have been injured when he learned that all trails did not lead to the rock in our small hometown park, but more than pride is at stake when it comes to the trail of life.
If we want our children to successfully land on the Rock of Jesus, we must grab their hands and lead the way. In the words of author Gary Thomas, “Laying down a moral example is like creating a trail in the jungle. Chaos surrounds our kids; they need a mom and a dad to walk before them to show them the way. They need to see how we, overwhelmed by life, find security and hope in a God who is greater than we are, and how we strive to live unselfishly, even sacrificially when need be to seek first the kingdom of God” (Devotions for Sacred Parenting).
What good is a tour guide if she has never traveled to the destination himself? We, dear moms, are tour guides in the jungle of life. As our own feet wear thin the path that leads to the Rock Himself, we must take our children’s hands and say, “Follow me! I’ve found the narrow path. And you’ll never believe what God is teaching me on this journey….”
The Overflow: I am the way and the truth and the life. No one can come to the father except through me. -John 14:6
*The pictures included in today’s post are shots of my own children exploring the same trails that young Kelly wandered when I was babysitting over twenty years ago. Thankfully, the road that leads to the Big Rock is now marked by a large wooden sign with an unmistakeable arrow!*
ABSOLUTELY!!!!
Your so amazing …and beautiful…from the INSIDE – out!