I am amazed at how many friends I have that have given up the search for significance. They are no longer deer panting for water... or souls longing after God. Instead they are bitter hardened ground that no longer expects rain much less water. Survival, not significance, is their new search. Dusty dreamers who don't even look up to see if the light at the end of the tunnel is a train. They've been ran over too many times and just expect trains.
I understand. I expect trains too! Why? Because, I have been in those tunnels. I have seen those trains.
But one day, something occurred to me. That train had to come from somewhere, and it's going somewhere else. Call me an optimist, but I think of myself as a realist. If I keep seeing trains come and go, then there's hope. I remember hearing the whistle once and realizing, that if I just got off the track, I wouldn't keep getting ran over. In fact, if I could reach out and snag the train somehow, it might carry me out of this place. And it did.
And I found that, in life there are patches of light and patches of darkness. And there are trains that lead you into and out of each. Sometimes I have to know when to jump off and sometimes, I have to hang on through the darkness. Sometimes I let go too soon and end up walking until I find another tunnel, hear another whistle, reach out and head off on another journey.
Like right now. I hear a whistle. I have to go.
