Lonesome Whistle

I woke this morning to a lonesome train whistle at 5:45am. How do I know it was lonesome? Well, it sounded sad in the silence. But I'll admit, I was a little sad.

 

It's Mother's Day. And even though I am lying in bed listening to my husband softly snoring, (softly, I swear) I feel a bit like the train whistle.  

I won't see my mother or grandmother today, as I would like. My mother is in Texas, and my grandmother is definitely with The Lord. I say definitely because, if she was locked out of Heaven, she would talk to St. Peter until he agreed to let her in. But I digress. 

The train whistle. I used to live close to a train in Waco, Texas. When I say close, I mean that the windows rattled. It was a roller coaster time in my personal life, but I loved my radio family during that time. The train became my alarm, as I worked mornings with Flash. I often considered the train my lifesaver, until it blocked my path across the road. 

When we lived in Austin, the train ran through the center of town, down Mopac between the traffic lanes. It always fascinated me that they built the highway straddling the train. It moved away by the river, and we rarely heard the whistle in our home. 

The train that rolls in the Hill Country near my parents' home in South Texas has become more audible since developers have come in and cleared the land. I wonder sometimes if the train I heard in Waco or saw in Austin was the same one that rolled through the hills. 

My parents have my grandmother's antique bedroom suite. I used to sleep with my husband and the twins in that bedroom on the train side of the house, and listen for the whistle, waking to the feeling of my grandmother touching my arm the way she always did.  It used to aggravate me when I was young, but that bedroom was a haven for her spirit for a time. 

When I awoke this Mother's Day, it was the loneliness in my heart that the train's whistle called to, for my mother and my grandmother. I wondered how to assuage it, as it threatened to overtake me. So, I turned to the Upperroom: 

As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.  - Isaiah 66:13 (NIV)

The author's prayer today? 'Help us to depend on you, dear God, as children depend on their mother. Amen.'

It occurs to me now that when I was furthest from God, the train was closest to me-the whistle loud and overwhelming. When my faith has been strongest, the train and it's whistle have been soft and sometimes distant. This is the way he shows His love, rattling the windows and then moving away as we are close to the river, the water of life. 

This Mother's Day, I take comfort in God's word, and His presence in my daily living. 

Yes, Lord, I hear you...softly blowing the whistle for me.