The Shelf

It had been a non-stop day and a half.  This was the Passenger's week to accompany the Trucker.  The list of tasks to accomplish before leaving seemed a high mountain to climb.  Then came the phone call.  The load has changed.  Can you be ready to leave a day early?  Like tomorrow noon?  Yikes.  And by the way, with the storm coming, maybe we'd better leave early tomorrow morning?  Oh me.

So, no rest in the day, which was long on  both ends.  And the to-do list was rearranged - only the most necessary floated to the top.

Wednesday morning, 8:45AM.  The truck and loaded trailer had been left at the shop, from which the turnpike is a short hop, as a precautionary measure, in the event of serious snow.   Fluffy flakes floated thickly down, though warm ground temperatures prevented their accumulation.  Only the trees captured their loveliness.

Luggage, briefcase, food, sheets, blankets, were hastily unloaded and dumped on the bunk's mattress.  Flipping a switch to shed light on the situation yielded up nothing.  Ah, but the Trucker is capable of managing any emergency.  A spare switch procured from the toolbox, the dash cover unscrewed and dropped forward, and an efficient repair was completed in minutes.

Meanwhile, the Passenger worked on restoring order to chaos.  Food in the fridge and cupboard.  Pillows encased and dropped with their blankets on the passenger seat.  Briefcase behind the Passenger's seat, duffles under the bed by the crate of water, computer bag under the dash.  Amazing how much can be organized into a small space.

Having cleared the mattress, the Passenger now worked on making up the bed.  The Trucker usually does this, as he has more strength and longer arms.  Ever try to make up a bed while you are sitting on it?  

Finally, all was complete.  Except for the heavy coats and the bag of in-case-of-a-winter-storm clothes, to be stacked on the top shelf above the closet, which is behind the Trucker's seat.

The shelf.  Roughly 20 x 20 inches.  Suddenly a memory surfaced, and tears misted my eyes.  In my mind, I am back in early 1993.  (When the Trucker and I married in late 1990, he honored me by switching to local delivery work.  This was followed by short stints for local trucking companies.  We became parents in the waning days of 1992, and by the dawn of 1993, the Trucker was back to running the west coast.)

Before each trip, I would ride with the Trucker to the shop in order to clean the cab and bunk for him.  Carrying my baby in a sling, I would nurse him asleep, then slip out of the sling and lay my slumbering bundle on that top shelf while I wiped down the cab and the bunk.  He fitted perfectly, blanketed by the sling, and the padded rim of the shelf held him securely.  Can it be 25 years have gone by?  That cuddly newborn on the shelf is now a muscular six feet tall, and a Godly husband to our dear daughter-in-law.

The passing of time brings change.  Every change involves a measure of grief, as the old is abandoned to make way for new.  But as most do, this change has ultimately brought joy.  The Trucker and I look on with parental pride at the firstborn son God has given us, knowing that He who has begun a good work will carry it to completion in Christ Jesus.  We rest in that promise. 

And the shelf of the 96 Kenworth W900L no longer holds anything so valuable as that shelf in the 87 Kenworth T600 once did, but stands as a silent reminder of days gone by, and promises being fulfilled.