Wednesday, August 16, 2017

time to hit the rails, there's a train a comin'











My parents never seemed to be rich to me, as a school teacher and my mother staying at home, we very rarely if ever ate out.  It seemed that whenever we did, it was visiting my Grandparents, which meant eating at Keenan’s in Bangor, which said Iris Lunch on the outside.  It took me well into my teen years to figure out Phil Keenan owned the place, and the reason we ate there was because my Grandma and him were friends back in high school.  So many a Friday night was spent at Keenan’s, where the two would talk old times, they were maybe in their late forties at the time, and it meant an extra bowl of ice cream for me.  But the real treat for me was my Grandpa taking me next door to the roundhouse, where the trains were stationed.  In the pre-Chinese clothing manufacturing days, the area was covered with small mills that made everything we wore, plus towels, sheets and blankets.  But the real reason was the coal region they lived in, and coal was big back then, and hand in hand with my Grandpa, we would be allowed into the roundhouse, where the big engines seemed bigger than life.  A brakeman would wave us up into a caboose, we looked into boxcars, knocked on the side of tank cars, and climbed up without trying to get too dirty looking into the coal cars.  It was just like our train set in his basement, and many times I would compare what Lionel had made against the real thing.  Seeing the real thing made the train set layout come to life, the names on the box cars seem real, and add in the diesel smell, the coal burning, and all the other roundhouse smells, it was an hour on Friday nights well spent.  Grandma had her old stories, Grandpa and I were making ours.
Bangor Park used to have a train, a long train around the public park, and many a summer evening was spent riding on it.  A scaled down version of the real thing, I always sat in the last seat in the last car, at 10 cents a ride, I know many dollars were spent on me, and even though he was too big, sometimes my Grandpa would join in, then I knew it was time to go home where the train set in the basement waited.  We were always the last ones to bed, being quiet not wake anyone, a special time for both of us....
So when Christopher, my older son turned three, on his first trip back east, his Great Grandpa took him on his first train ride.  Squeezed together in the last seat in the last car, saved just for him, another generation of Mohns was riding the rails, and home to a special HO set made just for him in the basement.  Our old Lionels had long gone into storage, I still have some in my attic, but this set was their set, just like ours had been ours.  Today Phil Keenan is long gone as are my Grandparents, she and Phil were the last ones in their class circa 1920, almost 100 years ago.  The trains pulled out long ago before that, the Park is not what it used to be, the train gone, but the tracks still there, and Iris Lunch, well five years ago the building was still there but empty.  I never knew Friday nights and trains would still be precious memories some 50 plus years later, as a new Grandfather I only hope to do as well, just gotta find me some trains, I know where the motorcycles are....
It wasn’t until I came to Jesus that I understood how special relationships were.  And are.  We all take things for granted, I did, and so many good times growing up were normal to me.  I thought all kids rode trains, all kids had cool Grandpas, and all ate at Keenan’s where your Grandma knew the owner.  It was the joy of the Lord that brought it all home to me, how special those times were, and how special times spent with him are.  Many times we seek happiness outside of Christ, and find it to be cheap thrills just for a moment, and the moment passes.  Too many times our selfishness overwhelms others, “why don’t they like what I do?  What’s their problem?”  Joy is confused for happiness, based on the emotion of the moment, and soon, like the Bangor Park train ride, it is over, the park closed and dark, the train empty, and so are we.  My first description of joy was “joy is not the absence of suffering, but the presence of God.”  And it seemed the harsher the suffering, when I looked to him, the greater the joy.  It was personal, not taught, and as I began to see things through God’s eyes, his spirit dwelt in me, and I saw things his way.  I let his joy in, and began to heal the wounded areas, so much I wanted to see him heal others’ wounds too.  So much that when I was not in his will, I felt lonely and alone, like I was missing someone, and I was.  But I had turned from him, he never turns on or from us.  Looking back a simple meal out with my family, an hour at the trains, a few train rides, and hours spent in the basement were all supplied by God, for all of us.  A time to relax and enjoy being together, not all holy and churchlike, but where we could relax and enjoy each other.  Just like God wants us to be with him, ourselves, and to share that joy with others. 
Life has taught me we will have many tough times, but his joy is always there, and if you think being a Christian is tough, face eternity without Jesus, now that’s tough!  And stupid, because you don’t have to, and his joy is available right now, no matter where you are or what you have done.  His forgiveness allows us to love him, to love others, to bring joy with us, and when walking with him, you just have to share him.  Don’t worry about the words, he’ll supply them, just as he supplies the joy of the Lord, and the strength we find in it.  When we start to put others first, when we care more about them, when we mourn with them and then rejoice, we see a side of joy that without Jesus you cannot have.  Sometimes I only want to look back, Jesus gives me the hope to look ahead.
Today may be the time to hit the rails you have been dreaming of, to experience Jesus and all the joy of him first hand.  He just isn’t in church on Sunday, but available walking, riding, running, or sitting.  His joy knows no bounds.  Climb up in the caboose and sit a while, look at all the power the locomotives have, consider how much the rail cars hold, and see how it all compares to his love for us.  “All Aboard!”  And like the old Negro spiritual says “there’s a train a comin, you don’t need no baggage, you just get on board!”  Jesus and trains, no wonder they both seem so much to me....
love with compassion,
Mike
mattehw25biker.blogspot.com