Most of these stories I have been telling you took place around Coventryville, New York, which is where we lived when I was little. Our home was the last house on a country road, so the bus would turn around in our barnyard and then head back to school.
It was always a big job for me to get up and around in time for the school bus. I guess that was because my mommy died when I was very young, and my sisters and I had a hard time doing everything for ourselves. When we would see the bus coming down the road we had just enough time to grab our lunch bags and run out while the bus was turning around. Sometimes I often ended up on the bus without my hair combed or my belt on or my blouse properly buttoned. My big sister had a comb in her pocket and would braid my hair and straighten my clothes as we rode to school.
If that was a normal morning, then of course there were times when things didn’t go as planned. One morning I was later than usual getting out of bed and eating my breakfast. The bus was already turning around and pulling away as I rushed out the door. I raced ahead, cutting across the yard so the driver would see me and stop. What I didn’t realize was that the pig fence was there. Crunch! Ouch! I ran right into the barbed wire.
I was a sight. My legs were bleeding, my hair was sticking out everywhere and my blouse was, of course, not tucked in. You can be sure I didn’t get to school that day. It was a good day to stay home and pull myself together.
I’m sure none of you have any problem making it to appointments on time. You’re smart and lay out clothes and papers the night before, right? I sure learned a lesson the hard way that day. Haste is usually not a good thing – unless you’re Zacchaeus and making haste to see Jesus (Luke 19:5-6)