Road Trip: Detour

Each summer on Father’s Day weekend our church has an all-church retreat at Mo Ranch on the Guadalupe River near Hunt, Texas. The theme for this year was “Road Trip”. Our senior Pastor, Trey Little, taught three sessions each based on a road sign: yield, detour, stop.

Everyone has experienced at least one road trip in their lives. Maybe as a kid on a family vacation. Maybe in college with friends. Or maybe on your own family vacation. Road signs such as yield, detour and stop are encountered on a long road trip, but even more frequently on road trips around your home town. And they can be frustrating.

As I thought about the road signs, I decided that the detour is the one that frustrates me the most. I’m going along minding my own business, listening to the radio, making progress toward my destination and suddenly: detour. There’s workmen ahead doing no-telling-what to the road and I have to go another way. Frustrating. Time-consuming. But soon I’m back on the road making progress toward my destination.

My life has had a lot of detours. I’m going along minding my own business, making progress toward my destination and then: detour.

There are two kinds of detours: one of my own making and one that God puts in the road. Here’s the funny thing though. Since there are no actual detour signs on the road of life, it’s easy to get detoured and not even realize it. Regardless of the kind of detour, it may be years before I realize I was even on a detour, where the detour took me and when it was that I got back on the road making progress toward my destination.

Reminds me of our new kitty, Frank.

It was Friday afternoon about 2:00. The phone rang. It was our veterinarian’s office. They knew we were looking for a kitty and had one if we wanted it.He had been covered in burrs sitting in the middle of the street.  A woman had almost run over him. She brought him to the vet’s office where they cleaned him up. We should at least come see him.

Butch and I looked at each other. We were planning to go to Austin for Mother’s Day and we’d be gone overnight. How were we going to manage a new kitty? With a shrug of the shoulders we decided to have a look.

He was so small he fit in my hand. All the burrs were gone and all that was left was a little orange, fluffy thing. He started purring and snuggling up to my neck.

I looked at Butch. He looked at me. “O.K. we’ll take him.”

“Well,'” said the veterinarian tech, “he’s only about 4 weeks old which means he has to be fed every 2 or 3 hours. But he’ll lap, so you don’t have to bottle feed him.”

Oh, my!

“And,” said the tech, “you’ll have to help him go the bathroom. Dip a cotton ball in warm water and wipe his genitals like a mamma cat licking until he goes. And that should be done every 2 or 3 hours, too. Just do it every time you feed him.”

What!

In the meantime, the  kitty was purring and snuggling and chewing on my t-shirt.

To the store for cat food and kitty formula. He was so hungry; he quickly lapped it up getting himself covered in food in the process.

Our sweet neighbor, Yvette, who was going to take care of our older cat while we were away, agreed to take Frank to her house for a sleep-over on Saturday night. She is the best neighbor ever.

As soon as we pulled into our driveway on Sunday, I went to get Frank. When he heard my voice he came running and jumping for me to pick him up. After only being with me for 24 hours, he knew my voice and yearned for me to hold him. He knew who he belonged to, or maybe who belonged to him.

Through no fault of his own Frank had been on a big detour.  We don’t know how he got in the middle of the street covered in burrs, but we’re certain it was not his choice. And now he had food, warmth, cuddling, and love. He had completed his detour and was on his way toward his destination.

When we’re on a detour, sometimes we take up residence in a woodpile. Next post I’m going to tell you about a detour of my own.