On Monday of Christmas week, I made the decision to drive to Tucson to spend Christmas with my brother, Jim. I have never been short of Christmas dinner invitations, but this year I decided to spend it with my brother. He was family, and we had both lost our sons within eight months of each other. This would be my first Christmas without Mark.Even though I hadn't been with him for the holidays since 2008, he was always in my thoughts during this holiday time. It was time for a little family Christmas, even though it would be just the two of us.
On Tuesday morning I packed a few things and headed east. I have made this drive many times before. It is easy to get mesmerized by the never ending straight road across the California and Arizona desert at 80 mph.This time I decided to pay more attention to the uniqueness of the South West that I passed by.
I headed east to I-8 to the mountains of East San Diego County. I started up the grade that would eventually reach 4,000 feet. The road was cut through mountains of solid rock and boulders. The changing light made the shadows fly by. I couldn't imagine what it took to build this part of the highway. We all have a story, even rocks. How did they get there? How long have they been there? I have often picked up a small stone in many places in the world and ask that same questions. What's your story little stone? The rocks were here long before us, possibly thousands or millions of years.We are such a small part of God's universe.
I descended into the desert and into the Imperial Valley, which is rich agricultural land. Who had the vision of using water from the Colorado River to irrigate this barren desert and make it bountiful? I passed green fields of lettuce. There were bales of hay stacked ready for delivery. Citrus trunks carrying their colorful loads. I wondered if any one of these desert farmers owned a car because I saw nothing but pickups.
On and on back to the dry flat sage bush populated desert. In the distance were purple mountains majesty rising, cutting through the horizon like a Dow Jones flow chart. Now I was passing through pure tan sand dunes, with many desert riders and their trucks and trailers dotting the landscape. A movie about the Sahara could be shot here. Just as quickly, I was past the dunes and back to the sage brush desert.
Up came Yuma and into Arizona. It's the land of RVs, dealers and visitors, a poor man's Palm Springs. However, this was a town that was the real wild west. There was the sign pointing to the Yuma Territorial Prison. What stories this land could tell.
I came through a little valley with giant Sonora cacti on the hills like an army of long necked soldiers guarding the highway. What was their story? When did a seed fall and where did it come from that began the lives of these majestic plants?
Interstate 8 ended and I turned south on to I-10 to my brothers house, and family for the greatest holiday of all. It was a merry Christmas.
Life goes by quickly like my Camry across the desert. As with life, all you have to do is pay attention. Slow down, the wonders of God's work is right before you
Merry Christmas.
Sammy Carl
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