Waning Light at Galva


In the not so distant past there lives a different place, somewhere buried in memory.  It's a place where a warm fall sun slowly drops toward the horizon line and an eastbound California Zephyr makes a late-running dash into the Windy City.  It's not far from a little place called Galva, IL where an old timber bridge crosses the former CB+Q mainline in the heart of the Prairie State.  It's a warm and quiet late afternoon there, and the years do nothing to change it.  The human soul, it seems, was never meant to age in years.

In those days, it seemed only 'yesterday' that railroads like the Rock Island and Milwaukee plied their rails and struggled their last remaining days in cold winters and hellish conditions.  Stations had personnel and baggage handlers, and passenger trains were daily.  Dear reader, stand with me here on this bridge for just a little while and gaze at the great play that is being unrolled before our eyes under a Prairie State sky.

It is merely a breach of time that stands between that place and the present, but so wide the breach.  My eyes have seen more now than just that evening sky and I lament a missing state of compassion and hope.  It seems we are driven ever apart, laid low in the dust, a widening gap of division matched only by the years and the sorrows.  Perhaps it is time to cry and mourn, fight no more, and work for something better again.  I will lay aside what I want, and look to do what is Good instead.

And I will be thankful that there is a timeless place where memories can live.

Psalm 86:11  "Teach me your way, LORD, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name"

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