I have this wonderful grandson named Wilson who has an equally wonderful brother named Anderson.  I am compelled to mention this because Wilson is the subject of this particular post and Anderson is just cute and deserves to be recognized as such (says his granny).  Although Wilson has only been around for the last four plus years, he has managed to accumulate an enormous amount of wisdom during that time, most of which I’m fairly certain he has gleaned from his grandmother.

Not long ago my son and daughter-in-law were out killing time and burning gas, touring the countryside with their two rug rats in tow, firmly strapped into their car seats and amusing themselves as they rode through Gillis Mills, down Hollands Creek Road and onto a rather rutted, very unpaved imposter that would supposedly lead them somewhere close to Dry Creek.  For those of you unfamiliar with the territory don’t worry.  I am equally lost.

This gravel road proved to be the equivalent of a poorly assembled carnival ride, tossing the kids back and forth in their car seats with each rut and bump. My son would periodically glance in his rearview mirror, usually to the sight of heads being slung back and forth.  I would have said tiny heads, but anyone who knows Wilson and Anderson knows that would be an incorrect statement.  Wilson’s head alone ranks in the 95 ^th  percentile for head size. That’s a big head—all the more to be bounced from side to side by an unforgiving gravel road.

With each bounce, Wilson would make his displeasure known with such demands as, “GET OFF THIS ROAD NOW!!!” and such assertions as “I DON’T LIKE THIS BUMPY ROAD!!!” all screamed at the top of his little four year old lungs.  The final straw came with the final bump, one that elicited nothing more than a scream—no words—just a scream.  And his mother, being the sweet soul that she is, twisted around to face him and said, in her kindest, most motherly voice, “Don’t you like this bumpy road?”

And Wilson’s response?  “I DON’T LIKE THIS BUMPY ROAD!  I LIKE STICKS AND I LIKE TREES AND I LIKE ROCKS AND I LIKE THROWING THEM INTO PUDDLES BUT I DON’T LIKE THIS BUMPY ROAD!!!  I ONLY LIKE GRAY ROADS!”

So, there we have it.  As with most young children, Wilson has a definitive list of his favorite things … and one very definite dislike—bumpy roads.  Even at the tender age of four, he has figured out what most of us dread in this life—the bumps and bruises that will inevitably come our way—and he has managed to comprehend what very few adults ever manage to grasp.  And so the analogy begins.

Despite his obvious discomfort, Wilson could, when called upon, remember that there are good things in this world—sticks and trees and rocks and puddles.  And, despite his obvious discomfort, Wilson knew that there was something better somewhere out there—the elusive gray road that would allow him to sit as calmly as a four year old can and enjoy the ride.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could practice the wisdom of Wilson?  Despite the trials and tribulations we will eventually face in life, there are still some good memories hiding in the recesses of our overwhelmed brains, waiting patiently until the time when we call them forth and wrap ourselves in their comfort and security.  For some, those sticks and trees and rocks and puddles are things of the past we can revisit and for others, they are the blessings we all too often fail to see in the present.  And, no matter how bumpy the road may become, somewhere, at some time, there will be a gray road to ease our journey.  We must simply have enough patience and perseverance to reach the intersection.

This post was written by Lisa Thomas, manager at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah.

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