This was written two years ago. Little did we know the intense grief and loss that would rip apart our family just three short months later. Little did we know that it also was indeed the GrandTrucker's last convoy. Indeed, five short months later, he was in heaven with Jesus. It has been a struggle to continue resting in God for our future and for our family. But we know that He is the only one worthy of our trust and able to mend our hearts and our family. We trust ourselves to Him, and rest in His everlasting arms.
Mother’s Day is the annual
Make-A-Wish Truck Convoy in Ephrata, PA. Mother's Day 1998 fell on May 12. It was this year the Trucker was driving a
truck in the convoy, with five year old DS#1 as his passenger. The Trucker's father
also had a truck in the convoy.
After church, I left infant DS#2 in his
Grandma’s care, and took my girls on some back roads to a bridge
over Route 222, where we settled in to watch for the Trucker and the GrandTrucker to pass by underneath.
After a seemingly endless line of
trucks, fire engines, and emergency vehicles, blasting their horns
and sirens, we saw and waved at the trucks we were looking for. By then we all had had enough of the noise and excitement. Back
in the car in blessed quietness, we returned to Grandma’s house.
There we found DS#2 still as asleep as when we left him, much to
Grandma’s dismay. She had wanted him to wake so she could hold and
play with him. I actually would have preferred that she wake him, so
he would be more likely to sleep that night!
Fast
forward eighteen years to 2016. Once again, the Trucker and the GrandTrucker are both running trucks in the convoy. I am the Trucker’s
passenger, GrandTrucker has a small grandson filling his passenger seat (when
he sits).
The GrandTrucker has been on the road for sixty years. Will
this be his last? We don’t know, but the knowledge that this could
be his last convoy makes it extra special. This year the Make-A-Wish
Foundation has the preparations in place to take a shot at breaking
the world record for longest truck convoy, which stands at 416
trucks. (And they did, with 590 trucks officially recorded.)
As
we ride, we are looking for DS#1 and his wife, who are set to
take photos of our trucks in Brownstown. DS#2, with sister DD#2 and some friends, are on the ramp between Routes 222 and 272 at
Brownstown. When we get to the ramp, crowds of people line both
sides of the road. I tell the big guy behind the wheel to keep watch
on his side, and I will eyeball my side for our offspring.
At the Trucker's “There he is!” I look straight ahead and gasp. Our son is
standing in the center of the ramp, by the guardrail, holding a large
sign above his head that reads “MOM,” with a heart drawn around
the word.
A quick glimpse and we were past. Through tears, I
grabbed the air horn cord and pulled hard. Bystanders were laughing
and cheering. I barely had time to wipe my eyes before we were
around the corner and daughter-in-law was stepping out to snap
photos, with her husband standing behind her waving both arms and
cheering. We are so blessed.
Eighteen
years ago I had a little boy thrilled to ride with daddy, and toddler
daughter on each arm, and a newborn in Grandma’s arms. Today they
are grown and independent, and supporting us with their presence and
their love. A blink and the years are gone. How do we come to
deserve this? What will happen in another eighteen years? Only God
knows, and I am content to let that knowledge with Him.
No comments:
Post a Comment