A Mary Heart In A Martha World

We were driving home one winter from a retreat when we encountered a detour that took us off the main highway onto a snow-packed dirt road. Mile after mile we drove, the only car on the vast Montana plain, with only a barbed-wire fence to outline the way.

"I think we're lost," I said to my husband.

"We're not lost," he said, "Go back to sleep."

I don't know how much farther we drove but I awoke when the car finally slowed down and turned into a driveway - the only driveway, I learned later that my husband had seen in the last fifty miles.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up in time to see a small, rusty trailer leaning slightly into the wind. I looked over at my husband as he pulled the car to a stop.

"We're lost," he admitted.

BUT WE WEREN"T LOST AT ALL.

The old man who came out to greet us looked a bit disappointed when my husband crawled out of the car. It was his birthday, you see. And he had hoped against hope that the car he heard in the driveway was his son coming to visit from Minnesota.

But he seemed to cheer up as we stayed and chatted for a while, giving him as a birthday present a small, stuffed animal I'd bought on the trip. There was a tear in his eye but a smile on his face when he shook our hands and pointed the way back to the main road.

- Joanna Weaver