Biscuits and Gravy: The Runaway
Ever see the old picture shows of the little kid runnin away tottinâ€™ a pole with a kerchief tied to the end filled with some bread and a couple of toys? Itâ€™s iconic to say the least, and a bit far-fetched. I mean honestly, what kid thinks to take anything other than cookies and candy to eat? But as far fetched as the story may seem, nearly all of us have either threatened to run away or have at some point or another for a rather brief period.
Even as an angelic preacherâ€™s kid I was far from any exception to that rule of life. You see, back when my dad was first looking at getting into the ministry we lived up in the hills in the back-country, Godâ€™s country to be specific near the Coleman Boundary, and rented a house up on top of a mountain far outside of town. Now me being a typical Southern boy I loved livinâ€™ out in the hollars, playinâ€™ in the woods, chasinâ€™ snakes and generally causing mischief as much as earthly possible. Not that I ever got myself into too much trouble but I figure I had to have been a handful to say the least.
At some point or other, about the time I was four I reckon, mom and dad decided to move to a new house. Now, dad was away workinâ€™ on the new house tryinâ€™ to get it ready for us to move into. Meanwhile mom and I sat at home doinâ€™ this and that. Well, I wasnâ€™t too keen on waitinâ€™ for dad to get home. I kept askinâ€™ mom constantly, buggin her more that a gnat in a choir loft during revival, to go see dad. Momma kept tellinâ€™ me that I had to wait, that dad would be home soon from the other house but that simply wasnâ€™t good enough for me. I wanted to go see daddy and that was final.
So, mounting my trusty steed, a plastic pedal tractor, yes a pedal tractor, none of this pimped out city nonsense for us country boys, I set out to find daddy. I pedaled down the steep gravel driveway all the way to the bottom of the mountain and set out on the highway mid-day. About five miles down the road, headinâ€™ to go see daddy who in fact was on the other side of the county at the new house, lo and behold an old pickup truck pulled up. My dad leaned out the window, took one look at me and said, â€śHey son. Where yaâ€™ headinâ€™?â€ť
I looked at him, waived and smiled, â€śIâ€™m cominâ€™ to see you daddy!â€ť Well he just got out, picked me up and put me in the truck, put my pedal tractor in the back and drove home.
Once we got home mom came runninâ€™ out tears streaming down her face. As she scooped me up and held me tight, dad asked if she was gonnaâ€™ whup me to which she replied, â€śNo, I love him too much.â€ť and squeezed me tighter.
It was the only time I ever got away with somethinâ€™ that big, but it taught me a valuable lesson. For starters, that distances are a bit longer than you might think traveling slower and that there might just be a reason that you might not see behind someoneâ€™s advice or warnings that you shouldnâ€™t go or do something that youâ€™ve got your heart set at doinâ€™. Be mindful and weigh the wisdom that you are given with each moment!