Passage Thirteen: In This Way
My dad and I have just returned
From an antique buying trip to Arkansas.
We came back, having not bought a thing,
But we did not return empty-handed.
We had occasion to stop in Batesville,
Where my grandparents had once lived,
And this prompted us to recollect
And talk about my grandfather.
My grandfather had been a mailman,
Whose rural route was through the hills
And to the homes of some very poor
And very secluded mountain people.
My dad recalled his father talking about
When he first began to drive the route,
That he would see these people waiting
And watching for the mail to come,
Half-hidden and a ways away.
He said that it was weeks before
Many of them would come out to meet him.
Being the kind and gentle man he was,
He came to be a good friend to those folks,
And he always spoke of them with fondness.
Though we live in homes
That are big and fancy, by comparison,
To the humble dwellings
Of those Ozark mountain people,
We are really not so different.
Our circumstances may be
More richly decorated,
But out of them we peer,
Half-hidden and a ways away,
At a kind and gentle man
We will one day know as friend.
He might not look
Like what we think is strong,
But he will meet the need this way,
And show us, in this way,
How strong love is.
My grandfather appreciated people.
He saw past the clutter around them.
He saw past the junk in the yards
And the old furniture on the porches.
He saw the hearts of those who dwelled
In those humble surroundings.
I believe he saw as we are seen by Him,
Who looks past the clutter around us,
Past the junk in our yards
And the old furniture on our porches.
