I've probably blogged it before, but I've been recalling a day spent with my dad several years ago. It was a fall day so I'm sure the seasonal changes are setting the stage for my minds eye but it was one of those frozen in time days I would pick if ever given the chance for a replay. 

I was over my head in irreconcilable differences at church, had just resigned my cherished ministry and was experiencing the loss and grief of all that involved at the time. It was a Tuesday. A day usually spent preparing for the weekend services but a day I wisely, if not divinely elected to accept my dad's invitation to have lunch. In Ursa. 

Dad loved his little roadside cafes. And he loved the chicken in Ursa. I don't remember our conversation really, even thinking there wasn't that much of it, I just remember the call and the awareness that I needed to say yes.

After lunch he asked if I wanted to take a trip to the old camp on the levee. (or rather the remains of what used to be the old camp on the the levee...) He drove us through the familiar route we traveled so often growing up and at the pace he always traveled it: relaxed with no where to be. I kept the rocks he handed me from the bank we crossed to the river and listened as he remembered his own mental pages. He was so tall and so quiet. I miss his white t-shirts and lumbering gait. His large tanned hands and goofy sense of humor. I miss walking behind him and feeling that safe. I miss that day.

We walked along the strip of flood ravaged camps and rubble and I listened to his stories of what used to be. Stories of taking my mom fishing and their hours spent together. This trip might well have been for his soul as much as mine..

We drove back to Quincy via the scenic route and pace and he asked if I was in a hurry to be back. Another divine decision, I said no. We headed to West Quincy to get some gas and then he decided to drive to Canton and LaGrange. A beautiful fall drive to be sure. I remember having the windows open and our mouths closed. I remember him pointing every once in a while to a road that led somewhere but mostly we just drove. He pulled into the Canton Ferry dock and we loaded up. I hadn't been on a ferry for years. Not since the last time he decided to use one. I can feel the sunshine of that afternoon excursion across the Mississippi. He talked to some of the men on board, managed to laugh at me for being a bit skittish of the whole process and we both had the greatest time. We docked in Meyer and I remember him saying as he decided which route to take that he had never been "this way" before. We were in the middle of what appeared to be nowhere. Long country roads, sprawling farm land and endless sunshine. And that breeze. I will always remember that breeze. I will always remember that it seemed to bring more than a taste of autumn into the car, it brought healing to my broken heart.

I don't know if I ever told dad how much that day meant to me. I know that four years later it's still a vivid memory when I recall that stretch of the road in my life and when I recall favorite times spent with him. I don't know if he called that day as a response to what I was going through or if he just wanted to buy me lunch. I know if I had said no and missed it...well, I'm just grateful I didn't.

Sometimes we have to push pause on this life in progress and listen to our souls. We have to make time for what really matters and what really lasts. Of all the many things staking claim to my life that day the one I chose is the one I will remember as long as I live. Knowing now what I didn't know then, it's the one thing I needed most.

Here's to choosing well...