April 22 – “A temple, a tunnel, and a told-you-so”

We took a drive into Texas yesterday – a sort of trial run for our upcoming 40^th anniversary vacation getaway.  Actually we had to go to my rheumatologist’s office to pick up some of the medication I take.  Pretty boring trip usually.  But not this time.

Oh, the drive up there was uneventful enough.  I suppose.  I slept much of the way.  But there were no screams of terror from Chris to awaken me from my slumber, so I assume all was well.  Chris dropped me off to run up to the office, as I have done numerous times over the past few years.  But when I explained my purpose to the front desk, they had no idea what I was talking about.  The nurse on duty called me to the back and was escorting me to a room, when he stopped and whispered, “Now you understand that we don’t just give out samples of medications, don’t you?”  How incredibly condescending.  I countered with a very patient rendition of how many times I have done this very thing over the last three years, how it was not a sample distribution but a part of a Pfizer Pharmaceuticals program, how Theresa, the other nurse, had called and told me the medicine was in the office.  I even told him where to go look for it and what kind of packaging it usually came in.  I don’t think he appreciated my assistance or the fact that I knew the layout of the office so well.  He asked me to return to the waiting room while he asked Dr. Rubin for clarification.  I had just enough time to text Chris when he burst forth into the room, my package in hand and an apology on his lips.  I accepted the envelope with a grateful “Thank you.”  Didn’t even add an “I told you so” or anything.

From there we headed out to Missouri to the closest AAA office.  We wanted to get some paper maps and some of their famous tour guide books.  I entered the address into the google maps app on my phone, but it was leading us somewhere way north of interstate 10.  Fortunately I recognized the error and corrected the input.  That was just one more reason why we like paper maps.  Now the new route took us windingly through several small communities to the southwest of Houston, so we were able to avoid the main freeways and craziness of traffic.  But the drive was more than that.  It was entertaining.  At one turn Chris commented, “Whoa, look at that.”  It was a huge, white … not just a building … it was a whole complex of structures with a distinctive Hindu flair.  The map app called it the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir.  I have to say … it was gorgeous architecture.  I looked it up later.  You can tour it.  Maybe on a future trip to Texas.  The other really impressive part of the drive came somewhere in Stafford, Texas, I think.  There were lots of huge oak trees lining the street.  And the city had trimmed them in such a way that the car felt like it was traveling through a huge tunnel.  Very impressive.

We found the AAA office and walked away with two bags full of maps and book to peruse in the next few weeks.  After a quick lunch at Spring Creek Barbeque, we headed for our last stop on the way home.  Well, actually it didn’t turn out to be our last one.  On the spur of the moment we made a quick turn and stopped at the Stone’s farm to say hello to the goat and dogs.  Oh, and Laura was there, too.  Didn’t stay long, though.  We did still have one more stop.  That came a bit further down the road.  We went to the cemetery where Mom and Dad and Nannie K. and Grandaddy were buried.  That’s where I noticed an interesting family tradition I didn’t know we had.  On the tombstones with all the expected information was added a nickname.  Buster.  MeeMaw.  Nannie.  I guess we started it after Grandaddy died, because I don’t remember his being on there.  So I suppose when I’m added to the list there will be a DadDad.  The problem will come when they have to decide what to put on Chris’s (Yes, I said, “they.”  I plan on making my exit first.  I called dibs).  Will she be Nana?  Nani?  Or maybe Cailyn’s parttime favorite, Nan?  Have fun with that one, kids. 

Psalms 85:6 says, “Faithfulness springs forth from the earth, and righteousness looks down from heaven.”

Father, thank you for providing those oak trees for that city crew to shape into a tunnel.  Thank you for the stark white material for the architects and builders to form into that amazing structure.  Thank you for the effects those small capsules have in reducing my pain.  Amen.