The Train Ride

“It’s such a pretty world today.  Look at the sunshine, today and every day since I met you…” the music rang through my ears.   And so began my life, where the world was mine to touch and discover and feel.  The vehicle was life itself…wherever my two little legs took me.  My mommy loved me and my daddy too.  I had many pets that I adored—cats, dogs, horses, chickens.  My favorite was the many litters of puppies I raised and mothered—sometimes getting up several times in the night to nurse them back to health.  I spent hours walking in the field, testing my running legs, feeling the wind whip through my long hair.  I would lie on the grass and watch the clouds float effortlessly by, and then get back up to enjoy more of the scenery and splendor of the world.  I walked alone, or with a gentle animal friend, and sometimes my older brother or sister, or even with my mom or dad, but mostly I enjoyed being alone.

Before I was finished testing out my legs, I was put on a loud, noisy train.  There were lots of obnoxious people on the train and the conductor and engineer were often grumpy.  I longed for the days with my mommy and her voice singing, “And though some rain may fall, the sky will always be blue,” but those days were mostly over–at least for the better part of my waking life.  I was terrified to step onto the train each day, but my mother’s gentle reassurance allowed me to do it.  I was 8 years-old before I got on the train alone and didn’t cry for my “former” life.  I soon learned the specific behaviors the conductor expected.   While on the train, we had endless lists of requirements that I soon learned to complete with perfection.  Often we were given “train” assignments to carry out during the time we were off the train.  The way of the train infiltrated every part of my life.  Once my train ride was over for the day, I longed to embrace life as I once knew it, but I still had to prepare for my ride the next day.  If I wasn’t prepared, the conductor would make sure my ride was wretched.  This bothered me at first, but I soon got over it.  Riding the train and keeping the conductor happy became a way of life.  

While riding the train, we had the option of riding first class.  I took this option.  If you had no choice of whether or not to be on the train, you may as well make the most of it and have a soft seat and enough food to eat.  There were certain hoops I had to jump through to get this privilege, but it was better than the alternative.  It wasn’t all about the soft seats and food either.  I wanted to avoid the criticism of the conductor and train engineer.  Anything to avoid a crusty look or reprimand.  Anything to gain the approval of the conductor.  Anything to avoid negative attention.  By the time I was 13, I was quite adept at doing whatever was necessary to ride first class.  I liked the comfort, and so gratifying the conductor became a habit of mine.  I didn’t know how to do anything else.  I didn’t know where all those train rides were taking me, but I do know that I learned to avoid sitting at the back of the train where there were even more conductors yelling.  My desires were swept up in the desire to make the conductors content.  Whatever they asked, I did.  After all, I wanted to be comfortable on this train ride.

By the time I was eighteen and quite grown up, I had now earned the privilege of choosing, yes choosing, the track I wanted my next train to go on.  How exciting!   Instead of going wherever the engineer wanted to go, I had the advantage to at least choose the track—not the train, but the track.  I soon learned that the conductors on this new track were even more difficult to please.   The conductors on this new track talked of free thought and being truly educated.  Oh, what joy!  Now I could be free to express my thoughts and opinions.  I turned in my first train report, and much to my dismay, it met with the conductor’s disapproval.  She wanted me to articulate her thoughts, not my own, but hers!  I  expected this track would be different.  I hoped and prayed I would be allowed to not only please the conductor, but myself.  I was afraid if I didn’t stand on my own two legs soon, my legs would be so frail I would never walk again.    This being said, getting back to pleasing the conductor, although depressing, was not too difficult.  After all, I had been doing it for over thirteen years.  The practice of pleasing the conductor was ingrained deep within my being.  All of life’s joy and fulfillment revolved around what the conductor thought of me.  I continued to do what it took to ride first class and make my ride as easy as possible.  After two years on this track and with only two left to go, I realized I no longer wanted to live a life through someone else’s beliefs and desires.  I wanted to live authentically and walk on my own two legs.  I was not happy here and had the realization that I did not have to use the train as my vehicle to get through life.  There were other choices, other tracks—other vehicles.  I sought the advice of my new fiancé.  He felt that since this portion of the ride was already paid for, I may as well finish the miserable journey, and so I did.

For about 6 years, I was off the train. My legs were weak, and when the wind blew, I was kind of tossed about.   It took a while to regain the strength I had known in my youth.    No one gave me warm food or a comfortable seat for working hard, and it was disheartening.  Although I was now off the train, I didn’t know how to cope with this strange world around me.  It had been so long since I had experienced it first-hand.  Besides, my legs felt like jello.  How was I supposed to get around?  There was no one overseeing what I did.  No one to please.  I was beside myself.  I felt lost, alone, and afraid.  I had no clear direction.  I had to adjust to this new reality, and it was difficult.  In time, my legs did gain a bit of strength, and I soon began feeling confident with exploring the world around me.  

It came time to send my own sweet firstborn on the train I had recently escaped.  Something inside me didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t know another way.   Everyone around me was doing it, and they seemed like nice people.  It seemed like the only option.   I sent her on the train for two years when I saw the light in her splendid eyes beginning to diminish.  I knew that I could not put her on the train again.

I knew that I didn’t want my daughter or any of my children to be put on the train that stole much of my growth and experiences as a child.  I realized that I did not have to put my children on the train every morning, even though everyone around me was doing it, even though I was chastised sharply by the “train people” for not doing so.  Somehow, I had emerged from my desire to please the conductor and the people around me and chose instead to look to the One who created the beautiful world that I explored as a young child.  I looked up to the billowing clouds and sought answers.  I looked down to the dirt beneath and longed to be grounded in something real, something of my own and my Maker’s choosing.  I realized that my children would learn more from walking on their own two legs through the actual world God created with a loving family around to support them than from being put on the train that so many chose to be on.  The train makes a lot of noise but has no real destination.  I once thought the only comfort in life came from pleasing the train conductor.  Since getting off, I realized there was joy all around, but I was speeding by too fast to notice it. 

I choose now to walk on my own two feet, holding hands with my sweet children and my heart linked to God.  I choose to get off the train and take responsibility for my education and take my God-given responsibility to guide my children’s education.  I have not walked this path alone.  There have been many paths that I have followed that were walked by others’ two feet.  At times, when I couldn’t get up the craggy part of a cliff, there were those above, who gave me their hand and pulled me up to their level.  It is not an easy path.  There are no well-made tracks to ride on at fast speeds.  But at least I am feeling the wind in my hair, seeing the blue above, and testing out my running legs.  And, they are getting stronger.