Back when we owned a big, white Buick and no one wore seatbelts, I loved being my dad's navigator on road trips. He'd let me read the map even though I'd sometimes get us lost.
I remember a near-miss one winter. Icy roads. A car plowing through a red light. A thick utility pole. My dad's split-second decision - throwing his body across mine, trying to save me from the impact.
Another memory...one trip where my dad entrusted me with his big bag of coins for the tolls. Leaning across him, I'd toss our fare into the bucket.
"Pay the toll," he said at the second plaza.
"But I paid it last time," I said.
"What do you mean?'" he demanded.
"I already paid it," I insisted.
Not knowing the coins were meant to last us through three states, I'd emptied the bag into the first toll without him noticing. My dad dug out his wallet to pay the fare.
I eventually grew up, bought my own car, moved cross country to work in TV. Family took a backseat to career. Dad and I struggled to navigate love far apart.
One foggy day, a near miss. A car swerves into my lane. I pull over, shaken. A memory from years ago. Icy roads. A utility pole. My father shielding my body with his.
"Your dad would do the same thing all over again," I sensed God saying.
Our car had stopped inches from the pole that day when my dad had been willing to sacrifice his life for mine. Pain and distance melted away. I was again navigating safely at my father's side.
Great story-telling, Shay. He is, indeed, always at our side.
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