Not a New Place, But a New Face...

   We returned last evening from our Thanksgiving trip to Arkansas to be with our daughter and her family, and we are thankful to have been able to go and thankful to be home, sleeping in our own bed.

   Trips are fun.

   Trips are long sometimes.

   Trips make you appreciate home.

   Not that trips are bad. Family times are great, and when family lives far away, they are necessary. They are just not as easy as they used to be.

   But no matter if we travel the same roads, see the same scenery, and even make the same stops along the way, they are different.

   Our trip to Arkansas, Conway, Arkansas to be exact, takes us through south Georgia, a diagonal up through Alabama, across the top part of Mississippi and half way across "The Natural State" to Donna's home town.

   We try to stop, rest and walk around, every two or three hours.

   Last Tuesday we were moving up through Alabama and decided to visit Union Springs. It is always nice to be in someplace new.

   But, as we turned into the main street, we noticed a monument in the middle of the street.

   We had been here before and did not remember having done so, but the bird dog on top made us realize our mistake.

   We had also taken a picture of the old courthouse, which we are prone to do.

   As we walked into the county seat building, speaking to the sheriff's deputies at the metal detector by the front door, we asked where the rest rooms were located. (A practical note: restrooms at courthouses are usually better and cleaner than those at convenience stores..remember that.)

   Taking the elevator to the basement level, and while waiting for my wife to emerge from her pit stop, I noticed a young man, dressed in a white outfit that had State Prisoner written across the back, as he was straightening up a break room area.

   Engaging him in conversation, I found out he was serving time at the State Prison just south of town, and that this was his work assignment five days each week. I also learned that he would be getting out of prison in February.

   After talking for a few minutes, we went on our way, and he went back to work;

   Nothing profound was said, just an opportunity to affirm that he was a real person and to encourage him as he finished his sentence and went back out into the world. No doubt we will never see him again.

   Stopping at the deputy's desk at the front door on the way out, I mentioned the young man in the basement and told the officer that this guy was doing a good job, and to pass this along to those in charge of his detail.

   A chance encounter?

   I think not, but as I think about this boy, I stop to pray for him, praying for his time left to be full of meaning, and praying for his future.

   And I think back. We visited a town that we had been in before. We thought it was new to us, but wasn't. We had a conversation with a man we did not know and would probably never see again.

   Perhaps we were supposed to be there.

   I pray we handled it well...