A Journey to Myself


(This is A Crazed Thought from February 2005…not that I don’t have inspiration today…just was reminiscing…)

Confucius say. “A  journey of a thousand miles begins with a single footstep.”

    A telephone conversation a few weeks ago with my Father began with, “Son, we need to talk.”  I began to sweat and get nauseous because instantly my mind flashed back to an ill-fated “service project” my brother and I attempted back in the summer of 1987.  Nathan and I “borrowed” the car for the afternoon to mow a neighbor’s yard.  Our father might not have minded except we forgot to tell him about “the project”…and then backed into a fence post knocking the side mirror off and badly scratching the paint.  He didn’t yell or appear too mad… which really scared me.  All he said was, “We need to talk.” Our conversation that day focused on the need to be more responsible lasting about an hour.

   So when I heard those words, I started thinking about something I might have done that my Father needed to correct me on.  I had almost blocked him out completely until I heard my father say that I was not in trouble this time…yet!

   I drove over the next day for our talk.  My father explained the Optometrist had discovered a cancerous tumor in the right eye.  He said radiation treatment was scheduled in a few weeks in Memphis.  He asked me to drive him up for his treatment.  I could only muster a weak yes as the shock of this revelation hit me hard.

   We drove up on the appointed day.  My stepmother and I waited in the hospital room for my father to return from minor surgery involved with his treatment.  He came back groggy but in good spirits.  After ensuring that they were settled in the hotel room, I bid them farewell and started my six hour journey home.

   The weather was great as I left Memphis.  I set the cruise control to near the posted speed limit.  I even found a good radio station and started jamming to some good tunes.  Little did I know that I had just started a six hour trek to myself.

  When the signal got bad about fifteen minutes later, I turned the radio off and began to think.  I found later that a man can think about a lot of things in six hours when there is not much to do.

   I watched myriad cars driving varied speeds on Interstate 40 that day.  Some slow.  Some fast.  I saw speeding caravans of cars.  I saw cars traveling alone.  I saw convoys of trucks. Many different ways of “getting there. Yet, all were heading west towards destinations known only to them. 

   Then I saw something strange ahead.  Cars traveling in the East bound lanes would flash their lights at other cars.  I could see the brake lights instantly come on from the speeding caravans.  What could cause this you ask?

  Apparently up ahead on the highway shoulder was a Highway Patrol.  The officer usually had a car puller over.  I assume to give them map directions since everyone drives the speed limit.  The officer must have given them plenty of guidance as most of  those cars caught and passed me within a few minutes. 

   Most of the traffic would drive the speed limit for four to five minutes then accelerate to their previous speed.  Then the whole process of flashing and braking would repeat itself about every twenty minutes or so.

   People knew the Highway Patrol was out there.  Yet they continued to speed and hope passing motorist would warn them.  Which of course some did warn…but it was usually too late.  Why would they try this knowing they could get caught?  What made them in such a hurry that they would ignore the laws?

   I had five hours left on my trek to talk to Him about it.  I had five hours to look inside the Aaron Sterling Deason that very few of you get to see.

   Here is what I understand now.  I have been one of those speeders.  Mom and Dad taught me the “rules of road” when I first began driving.  As a “smarter” teen,  I occasionally ignored their advice and did it my way.  Eventually the Highway Patrol would catch me. I would slow down for a little while… then speed back up to do whatever I wanted.  Fortunately, I did not seriously hurt or injure myself during those times.

   What is the meaning of all this?  The road home from Memphis is like the journey through this life and back to the celestial kingdom.  There are rules and laws of God that I must obey.  Heavenly Father “has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear” who “lead me, guide me, walk beside me.”  He has placed in my path inspired leaders that “help find the way and teach me all that I must do, to live with Him someday.”

   The Highway Patrol is  to enforce traffic laws.  The Lord has given me wise Church leaders who encourage me to live my life better by following heavenly laws.  They have issued me “tickets” of encouragement and “citations” of love.  They want me to succeed and to become the best person I can be.  They have challenged me to strive for a much higher plane of happiness.

  I find my greatest challenge now is to teach Justin and your children and grandchildren these “rules of the road” that YOU taught me so many years ago. 

  Like I said six hours is a long time for a man to have to look inside and figure himself out.

(Since 2005, the treatment stopped the growth of the tumor…but effectively killed the vision in my fahter’s right eye to point of blindness…i think 20/400.  He wears a darkened lens or an eye patch.  I prefer the eye patch becuase he looks like a pirate…and who wouldn’t want a Pirate for a Father…love you bunches, Dad!!!)

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Comments
One Response to “A Journey to Myself”
  1. Jo says:

    glad to read about how wise and knowledgeable you have become because of the things you have learned from all those policemen in your life. Now ,hope to meet you at the temple soon. I need help with our genealogy.

    Like

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