One Fine Day

Adjusting Our Expectations----------
Sitting in St. Augustine, FL this morning on the beach I have been thinking about how our expectations migrate over the course of a life time. I remember the very first vacation that our family ever took. There were no vacations when we were a farm family, since Whitey and Gernsee the cows, didn’t understand our need for time off. If you were going away from home for even one night, you had to get someone to agree to feed and milk both morning and night, and most likely they had their own feeding and milking to get done.
When Mama and Daddy were store keepers, there was no time off since the store needed to be open from 6 or 7 in the morning until 8 or 9 at night and they were the only operators.
When Daddy finally went to work for the Highway Department (TDOT) after Frank Clement was elected Governor, and Mama went to work for the Steven’s Pants Factory, Daddy was awarded something he had never had before – a formal vacation period. There was a two week shut down at the pants factory, so sometime around 1954 we took our first real “family vacation.”
Aunt Thelma and Uncle U.L. were “home” from Michigan and we all decided to go to the Smokey Mountains National Park which had recently been dedicated to the American people by President Roosevelt. The direct route in those days was to take old Highway 70N east, winding up the backbone of ridges through Cookeville, on through Crossville, passing through Pigeon Forge (which was a non event in those days) and into the small village of Gatlinburg. Gatlinburg was a far cry from what you find there today. There were a few souvenir stands with false fronts and tent rear areas, much like one would find at the carnival and two or three “tourist courts” including one at what is now the end of town closest to the park entrance. We had taken two cars and on the way up stopped at a little roadside joint for a burger, which was a real event for us – we never, never, ate out in those days. In fact, eating out meant taking a watermelon down to the backyard and “eating out.”
I remember that it was a hot July day when we arrived at the chosen motor court and Mama and Daddy took the blankets off the bed and made a pallet for us on the floor, thinking they would not need covers in such hot weather. They had not counted on the thin cool mountain air and none of us slept very much since Mama and Daddy nearly froze before the night was over.
I could never have dreamed then of going to many of the places in the world to which I have been privileged to journey. But then few of us are able to seen into the future clearly enough to set our sights high enough or raise our expectations to a sufficiently high level.
When I hear folks discussing the joys or terrors of the life to come, it often occurs to me that like us in those days, it is impossible for us to set our expectations properly, because our life experience is not rich enough to do so. Just like I would have been unable to picture winding through the canals of Venice, strolling through Tokyo, eating in the finest establishments in Brazil, or driving on the Autobahn, neither am I able to adequately picture the beauty of the Great White Throne, the Streets of Gold, or the City Four Square. Conversely, I am likely unable to grasp the terrors of the Lake of Fire that burns forever.
One day though, one fine day, I hope to see, not through a glass darkly, but face to face and know the joys which my expectations could not imagine.

Have a blessed day, and visit us at Maple Hill Church, a church of Christ.