Evidently, it was on this day two hundred years ago, that the first commercial railway opened in the United States. On October 7, 1826, the Granite Railway began operation in Massachusetts, partially to haul the granite blocks needed to construct the Bunker Hill Monument, commemorating the respective Revolutionary War battle. So, reading through this little history lesson brings me back to the railroad track that remains behind the field surrounding the home base of the family farm in northwest Ohio.
It isn’t exactly the most heavily trafficked route for locomotives, but, of course, when the trains did come through; it almost seemed as if there were far too many instances that they stopped at the most inconvenient railroad crossings near the farm. As if it was the engineers’ fault that I was running behind, trying to get into town by a certain time. As if they were plotting against me and everyone else seemingly waiting forever in this line of cars that seemed to go on…forever down the country roads, desperately waiting with the utmost anticipation for the slightest movement of the railcar that stubbornly sat still. Of course, it appears to still happen now with construction or utility crews and all the stop lights in northeast Ohio; just collectively conspiring to make life…more interesting.
Amidst those stand-stills that seemed to go on forever (but obviously didn’t), I wouldn’t often come to the realization of my rather miniscule part in the grand scheme of the entire world operation, which includes a need to transport goods from one place to another, just as they needed to in Massachusetts two centuries ago, and only forever before that with humanity needing to survive and thrive with help from distances places. I didn’t always think about the engineers, and whoever else on those trains, needing some breaks or to make whatever stops needed to do whatever was needed that was beyond my teenage center-of-the-world mindset. And even if my current theological framework doesn’t go along with God controlling trains stopping and going necessarily, perhaps such moments could have been some form of Divine nudges to get my needing-to-go-to-do-this-and-that ego, to…just…be…still…and know God and the entire world that God loves, including the ones who stop us in our (figurative) tracks.
Oddly enough, one blessing to the tracks being right behind the family farm, a place that was often soothed with nature’s silence (besides some rowdy tractors and combines); one would think that the piercing horn blaring from a train would often ruin the peace-filled moment. But, in a way, it was a helpful interruption: connecting back to family generations past, who heard the same sound long ago; not to mention further re-assurance that the world was still in full operation, taking care of all else that we could not (…hopefully). In the end, maybe in those moments was another Divine nudge to stop, and remember that God was still in full operation, too, in the silence and the sounds of work and play and joy and laughter and weeping and checking-in’s. Yes, sometimes, we still need to stop and take it all in, including all the God still living and thriving in our midst and through all the broken but beautiful tracks of life. Thanks be to God!
In Christ,
Pastor Brad