Hear the midnight train

The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Hank Williams Sr

For my entire life, it seems that I have always lived within earshot of a train.

As a little girl growing up in the South, long before folks had central air in their homes,
we’d sleep with our windows wide open…
and without fail, late on those steamy nights while the crickets continuously chirped,
despite dwelling in the burbs, there was always that sorrowful,
yet unmistakeable, whistle echoing through the air…winging its way to my youthful ears.

I listened to the whistles but I was also afforded to ride the rails.
Riding thankfully as a passenger rather than stowaway…think Boxcar Willy
or a vagrant hobo.

My grandparents always opted to take the train whenever possible verses driving.
They’d take me down to Atlanta’s Brookwood train station in order
to catch a train headed north in order to visit my cousins.
By the end of 7th grade, as a graduation trip of sorts before we all moved on to highschool,
my class took the train to Washington D.C

My dad also seemed to have a long love affair with trains as we had quite the
model train set up in our basement.

Later when I made my way to college, if I opted to walk to campus,
I use to have to crisscross a maze of train tracks.

And long before UGA had their fancy smancy football stadium, the stadium backed up to
what the students lovingly referred to as “the tracks”—free seats for the truly
brave or truly drunk at heart.
I always opted to sit inside the stadium but would longingly watch those
stalwart fans perched on that trestle that overlooked the field
wondering what they did should a whistle blow.
Blessedly, I never did hear of any train and fan incidents.

Once married and settled as a new bride in my husband’s house, a train cut right through
the middle of his small home town…we not only could hear the whistle echoing from town,
but we could actually feel the rumbling vibrations of every train passing through town.

There was many a morning that I would be on my way to work, getting caught
up in traffic by a freight town traversing through town—so frustrated,
sitting there stuck, I’d count the cars as the minutes ticked past making
me later than necessary.

The next city we moved to, along with the house we built, it also seemed prewired with the
sounds and feel of a nearby train running the tracks.
And now, this new house is no different.

And so the trains just keep on rolling…

And with this running theme of trains in yesterday’s post along with trains in today’s post
it seems that trains are a vehicle for much more than merely transportation
God is providing a metaphor and I will elaborate on that tomorrow…

So for now, let us enjoy a little throwback to a simpler time…

sharing the right things???

“It is a lesson we all need—to let alone the things that do not concern us.
He has other ways for others to follow Him; all do not go by the same path.
It is for each of us to learn the path by which He requires us to follow Him,
and to follow Him in that path.”
St. Katharine Drexel

(the sun, clouds and sky / Julie Cook / 2021)

Time may one day be back on my side…
and so with no further ado, while I try my best to
jump back on this blog train….
let’s get on with the meat and potatoes…the substance and sustenance
of what really matters.

Picture the hobo train jumper running alongside a moving train full
of open boxcars…
He’s running as fast as he can in order to keep up with the
rapidly accelerating train…his outstretched arm straining to grab hold of a
hand rail that is just out of reach.
Does he dare leap, hoping to grab hold while pulling himself up into the open car
or does he slow his pace and let the train move on without him??

The risk?

Getting crushed and run over or missing the train???
Which is the greater loss??

I’m the train hopper, straining to grab hold—still running to
stay up with the moving train….that moving train is life itself!
And it will not be slowing down and it will not wait on us.

So I’m taking the chance, I’m leaping.
The hour is dire.
We need to speak up and out during these scary and very dark days.

As I was getting all my little computer ‘windows’ open, ready to start a post,
I was pulling up my email…and while doing so, I was quickly scanning the Yahoo
cover page of “news” snippets…a wealth of the headlines and the ‘dead’lines.

And suddenly one word came into clear focus in my brain…SHARING

The entire notion of sharing…

Sharing is caring right???
Isn’t that what we tell kids??

But is it???
Is it caring or is it careless??

One look at any electronic outlet (FB, Twitter, Instagram, Pintrest, etc)
and it’s clear as rain, sharing is the name of the game.
That whole notion of TMI (too much information) has gone out the window.
Folks now want to air all sorts of laundry…the good, the bad and the ugly.
Boasting and Bragging
Shaming and degrading.

And so what is the benefit of such mindless, idol sharing?

The majority of what is being shared is more sordid, vile, foul, gossipy
false and inflammatory rather than it could ever be edifying, gracious and glorious.

There is so much we, the followers of Christ, need to be sharing throughout these most
precarious days as time is of the essence.

So let’s ask ourselves…are we sharing that which is truly worth chasing
a moving train over or is is more dribble than substance??

“Now there’s no one who approaches God with a true and upright heart who isn’t
tested by hardships and temptations.
So in all these temptations see to it that even if you feel them,
you don’t consent to them.
Instead, bear them patiently and calmly with humility and long-suffering.”
St. Albert the Great, p. 164
An Excerpt From
Manual for Spiritual Warfare