There's a Train Coming!

Uh-oh.  There’s a Train Coming!

When I was born, I lived on a large farm in Texas where we grew cotton.  When I was five, we moved into East Dallas near a railroad track.  The houses across the street from us backed up to the track itself.  Most people find the noise of trains to be a nuisance; however, we were soon used to it.  My younger brother would even wait for the sound of a train rumbling in the distance, run quickly to his bed, and try to go to sleep while the train was passing because he knew that meant someone else was up and about in the darkness.

In order to get to school, we had to cross the train tracks.  Junior high and high school were too distant to walk, so mom would drive us to school.  When I was growing up, we never owned a new car.  All of them were used cars, not pre-owned.  Some of were cold-natured, too, and could prove cantankerous when the temperatures dipped below freezing.  One particular day, my mom was driving my brother, a neighbor’s daughter, and me to school.  As she started across the tracks, the car stalled.  Suddenly, we heard a train whistle in the distance, and we realized that the fast-moving passenger train to New Orleans was due to pass by any moment. 

Hurriedly, we scrambled out of the car.  My mother had seen one too many movies and was on the track, attempting to flag down the train, which had already put on its brakes but which was in no way going to stop until well past where we were stalled.  Our neighbor’s daughter was crying hysterically in the car, and I had to push her out.  My brother and I pulled our mom off the track, as both watched what we knew was about to be a literal train wreck. 

Suddenly, I had the bright idea that I could push the car over the tracks.  I ran to the back of the car and began to push with adrenalin-fueled strength.  I knew the railroad crossing was slightly raised, and I couldn’t understand why the car would not budge.  The train drew closer and closer.  We could even see the conductor’s face as he looked on with horror.  Finally, I decided the train was too close for comfort and ran a distance from the track, resigned that our car was about to be destroyed and the train might even wreck.  Suddenly, the car began to roll backwards towards where my mom, my friend, and I stood.  My brother’s heels barely cleared the crossing as the train squealed by where we stood. 

Then, I understood.  While I had been frantically pushing the car from the back, my brother was pushing, just as frantically, from the front of the car.  Not until I got out of the way could he push the car off of the track.  The train finally stopped about 500 yards past where we stood.  They rushed to see if we were okay, got back on the train, continued on to New Orleans, and we went to school.

However, the lesson of that day has remained.  Next month, my husband and I will have been married forty-four years.  Often, we have found ourselves at an impasse over finances, children, or decisions.  Yet, God’s Word in Philippians 2:3 often takes me back to the train tracks where certain destruction was headed our way.  Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem the other better than themselves.  So, to save the car and honor God’s Word, I walk away from the back of the car and, often, I find that everything really was under control when I thought it was all up to me.  Let go and let God.

© 2010 Gerry Sisk

(08/18/10)