Dead Skunk (Possum, Squirrel, Armadillo) in the Middle of the Road

I tend not to notice roadkill until it’s too late.

I’ll be driving merrily along, and I’ll feel that little bump from running over something that’s already dead.

If my Good Wife is a passenger in the car I’m driving, she’ll cringe when I run over a dead animal. Kindly and gently, she’ll say, “I started to tell you it was in the road, but I figured you’d see it.”

This has happened many times. You’d think that by now, she’d realize her figuring is off.

Actually, I think she has figured it out. The last time it happened, she observed, “I think you’re good at noticing what’s way up ahead, but not so good at seeing what’s right in front of you.”

I think she’s right. (Just in case she reads this, let me add that she’s always right.)

Now, to be fair to me, let me note that I do notice and avoid large roadkill, such as a deer. I’m also pretty good at not hitting live animals.

Still, this strikes me as a good metaphor for the different ways people approach life. Some of us focus on what’s way down the road, while others of us focus on what’s right in front of us.

For example, some Christians are so heavenly minded, they’re no earthly good. On the other hand, some are so focused on here and now, they fail to consider eternity.

Some Americans are so focused on immediate gratification, they forget to consider long-term stability. On the other hand, some are so focused on having enough in their retirement years, they don’t have much fun now.

Some politicians are so focused on what’s good for them in next week’s poll or in next year’s election, they fail to consider what’s best for future generations. On the other hand, some are so focused on future generations that they—well, I actually can’t think of any politicians who are so intent on looking down the road that they fail to consider their own immediate prospects. If you know of any, please let me know.

My point is that we all need to have a balanced way of looking at things. We need to pay attention to what’s happening here and now. We need to be aware of what’s happening right in front of us. But we also need to pay attention to what’s way down the road.

Christians need to lay up treasure in heaven while also working to make life less hellish for those who are suffering, who are oppressed, and who are rejected.

We all need to save as best we can for retirement while also living as full a life as we can right now.

Our political leaders need always to be thinking about the long-term implications of their policies and programs while also considering the effect they’ll have on people today.

None of this is easy, but it’s what comes with being responsible adult human beings.

The road we’re on simultaneously sits right in front of us and stretches way ahead of us.

Wise people will keep their eyes on all of it.

Forty-Four Years Later

In September 1975, I entered Mercer University as a freshman. Mercer followed the quarter system back then, so three courses constituted a full load.

Two of my first three courses were held in Knight Hall.

I was a Christianity major and Greek minor, and Knight Hall housed both of those departments. During my Mercer career, I took, as best I can recall, nineteen classes in that building—all of my Christianity and Greek courses, plus three Sociology classes and one course each in Philosophy and Political Science.

I will always be grateful for what I learned in that building from Professors Giddens, Otto, McManus, Youman, Evans, Quimbao, Albritton, Brown, and Johnson.

I graduated from Mercer in 1978. In the years since, I’ve been back in Knight Hall a handful of times.

Last week, I walked into Knight Hall as an Adjunct Professor. I’m teaching a course called “Engaging the New Testament.”

I’ve been teaching part-time for Mercer over the last few years. To this point, all of my classes have been through what until recently was called Penfield College (they just changed the name to the College of Professional Advancement; I’ll keep calling it Penfield to save energy and words).

I enjoy teaching with Penfield. The students are mainly what we used to call “non-traditional.” They’re working adults who usually come directly from their places of employment to take four-hour long night classes. I admire their dedication and am honored to work with them.

This is the first time I’ve taught in the Religion (formerly Christianity) Department in the College of Liberal Arts in Macon. Most of the students in this class are freshmen. They just finished high school in May. They’re young.

In our first class meeting, I promised my students I wouldn’t bore them throughout the semester with “back when I was a Mercer student” stories. But I said I was going to bore them this one time.

I proceeded to tell them about how I made the long journey (less than forty miles, but it seemed long to me) from Barnesville to Macon. I told them about how nervous—scared, even—I was about whether or not I could succeed in college. I told them about how my mother had died in May before I entered Mercer in September.

I told them about how Mercer had changed my life. I told them about how much my professors meant to me. I told them about how I met my Good Wife there.

I told them how grateful I was to share in their educational experience.

I told them some of my story.

I don’t know their stories yet. I hope I get to learn at least a little about who they are.

I hope their experience at Mercer is as life-changing as mine was.

I hope I make a small contribution to it.

I hope that, if and when they remember me forty-four years down the road, they’ll feel a little bit of gratitude.

I hope they’ll remember me with a smile.