VII

Toddler Town and Half-Way Back Again

Philippians 3:15-16 "Therefore let us, as many as are mature, have this mind; and if anything you think otherwise, God will reveal even this to you. Nevertheless, to the degree that we have already attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us be of the same mind."


The bus was loaded down with lots of excess baggage. It wasn't two hours into the trip that some began to feel the excess baggage may have included two or three passengers better off left behind.

Nevertheless, the original reasoning prevailed as the common sense ideal. That reasoning was that the trip was going to be easier if they went together instead of in separate modes of transportation. There were too many for a van and the train would take them to destinations that they chose, with good reason, to avoid and they couldn't fly, yet.

The school bus, chartered, and the passengers, all able to relieve one another at the wheel, and all their luggage (all their earthly possessions packed in tightly and bulging from the rear door held shut with a bungee cord or stacked and hanging from the top of the bus) rolled out of Toddler's Town, Massachusetts.
Toddler's Town is a nice little village along the Atlantic coastline. They say life begins there. Lots of clam-digs. Earthly. Wet. Everyone watches out for your welfare. They take good care of you in T-town. It's the law.

But, eventually one of two things happens. The one thing that can happen is that you begin to get the feeling the grass is greener on the other side. Of course, you've never been there - the other side. But, you need room to grow. And there are so many T-town residents lately. You're beyond all that. Go west, young man.

The second thing that can happen is when you don't discover your desire to leave. They kick you out! That's right. I know it's unfair, but the law is the law. No one can stay in T-town forever.  (Regardless of the fact of discovering whole villages of mutant T-town exiles all around the area - it's illegal).

So, down the road and outside of the city limits the bus load of pioneers and exiles find themselves. They should find themselves any day now.

It's going to be great! Thank God for rest stops. Thank the Lord for fellow-travelers who will be able to "carry the load" while others nap (ex T-towners will continue to require those afternoon naps as usual - and thank God for that, too!).

The trip, if traveled alone would take at least a week. But, twenty-four hours a day on the road will make the trip seem much shorter.

Oh, I forgot, didn't I? You don't know where they are going, do you? Well, I suspect you do, but I will humor you and give you their destination. There is an over-grown, but exciting and booming metropolis in the northwest corner of the sate of Washington called Maturity. That's where they are going - like it not. It's the law.

Well, twelve rest stops, three meals and fill-ups later, the trip isn't feeling at all shorter than they had expected. 

Crossing the mountains was a breath-taking experience, however. One of the passengers was heard to say, "Imagine, all the exiles and pioneers who went by foot through (over) those mountains.

God bless 'em." 

Who would have imagined it being so majestic - life outside of T-town.

But, across those stretches of foothills and winding, gently flowing valleys, the trip began to take on a feeling less than majestic. As one other passenger had suggested, "B-O-R-I-N-G!" I think he was an exile.
That night someone discovered that by early the next morning they would be near Youngman, Missouri. Wow! They had heard about that place. They took a vote and the lot fell upon them to stop for the day.
Youngman, Missouri was beyond their wildest dreams. Riches, thrills, freedom, liberty,... temptation.

Those parochial T-towners had never known such a life.

"I've discovered myself!" one replied.

"I think I hear God calling me to stay here." came another.

What a day. What a place. They never wanted to see T-town again.

The late afternoon mellowness moved one young soul so deeply he decided that after they got to Maturity he would return one day to Youngman - as a missionary. He must have noticed something lacking in the lives of all the residents. To him the Youngman life was shallow, still earthly. He knew the group had found their greener grass, but reasoned that it could only mean even greener grass in Maturity.

Others were not so sensible.

When the time came to leave they had decided to trade the bus in for a mini-van because their were only four going on to Maturity.

And, in spite of the pleading of those who would remain, those who went on didn't have to take the rest of the luggage because Youngman requires that you carry all your excess baggage everywhere you go. Of course, they didn't know that until the van had pulled out of town and the security officer poked one of the new residents of Youngman with his stick and said, "There, that trash you call luggage. Pick it up. Let's go."

For you see, reasoning, illogical and contemptible, had victored:

"We can go to Maturity later." Strange that a small percentage ever did. Ninety per cent of all T-town residents leave for Maturity. Ninety percent of them never make it. Eighty per cent of those who don't make it wind up in Youngman.

"Let us go on to Maturity." the wise one said to the remaining crew as they drove away.

Oh God! That was the hardest part of the trip. More than once, while driving across the long stretches of golden and tasseled fields of the western flat-lands, did several wonder if they shouldn't turn back for Youngman. The driving was harder now with less drivers. One woman, totally exhausted and discouraged, asked to get out and was ready to hitch-hike back, but was encouraged to continue. Thank the Lord for the brothers and sisters of the cause.

Poor old, huh, what-was-his-name?, gave up entirely. They had to leave him at a hospital somewhere in Big Sky Country. No one ever heard from him again.

Well, you probably picked this story up off a shelf somewhere here in Maturity, Washington, so I don't have to tell you what it's like here. This place is great! I've been in Youngman, Missouri and I've been in Maturity, Washington - and Maturity is better. I tell everyone I meet that Maturity is the only place to live. The grass is so green here we have to mow it twice a day (whatever that means).

Anyway, I thought you would be interested in taking a trip with me. A bunch of us are going to rent a bus and go to Youngman, Missouri. It'll be fun. The more we can get to go the quicker we'll get there, right? Do you remember the first time you were there?

What are we going to Youngman for?

Well, I ran into the guy who had the vision years ago while he was in Youngman, that one day he would return as a missionary. I think it is a great idea. Don't you agree that we need to help those young people to go on to Maturity? Some of them have been there so long. Having been there once myself, I feel obligated to do whatever I can to help them.

Yeah, I know it would be easier to fly there, but we can't. Not yet.

Oh yes, you know it, I'm going to get in line for a couple of rides

end of this Book.  Please return to my homepage (click here).

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bless you.....................................Eugene H. Maze

This chapter and all chapters related to this website book entitled "Scripture Shorts" (copyright 1995, 2005) was written and published by Eugene H. Maze.  No portion of this book may be copied, sold or distributed either by electronic or other means in any fashion whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author.  Permission for distribution may be obtained by contacting the author at ehylandmaze@aol.com.  Links to this and all previous and subsequent pages of this book entitled "Scripture Shorts" may be distributed freely without permission.

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