Turtles on the highway

We were traveling recently when we hit a stretch of interstate and in a manner of seconds, I saw six turtles, all small.

Around these parts, as they say where I’m from, that’s not unusual, at all. These turtles are trying to get from one body of water, even if only a sliver or a puddle, for some reason or other.

But this wasn’t some small back road numbered somewhere around 367,368,370, or some variation.

No. This was the interstate. And for some reason these turtles had decided on going megawalking.

Four were dead, smashed in an apparent effort to head across the interstate. One was walking ever so slowly toward destruction. I wondered just what could be the problem or the intent of this young turtle. Why would it be so intent, so focused, so determined to cross that road? What lie across the road that interested the youngster so much? Did it have any thought at all that its destruction was just minutes away, or however it took for the turtle to slowwwwwwllllllllly walk across the side of the road till it reached, well, death?

Then there was the sixth one. Again, small.  Something akin to a reptile that had made the great escape from little Timmy’s tank in the Acadiana marshes.

Again, walking ever so slowwwwwwwwllllllly. He was strolling at the pace of a glacier would move if indeed those big ol’ things decided to go cross the Arctic interstates.

 But this one was walking away from the interstate.

Get that.

The world was headed one direction. This little turtle’s baby boy was ticking along in the other.   

Now, I suppose it could have already made it across the interstate. I suppose it could have, but somehow I doubt it.

 No, to me it tried to get to the interstate to answer whatever call had been given it that drew it from one field or one ditch or one living space up the side of the road, onto the side area along the interstate to that moment of decision where it met either its end or its beginning. Maybe it was answering that age old question about why the turtle tried to cross the road. Who knows?

I just know it had turned around, 180 degrees, and walked away from death.

During lent, that’s a lesson that will preach. That, friends, is repentance. It is walking up to that point of no return, lifting a foot to step out into the unknown and suddenly, surely knowing that it really isn't that unknown, after all. No, it's known quite well. It's death. It's separation. It's the relinquishing of that which makes us happiest and exchanging instead that which makes us the unhappiest.   

It's shell hell. A lifeless shell of a life. It’s teenage squished ninja turtle time.

          But for the one who stepped away from the interstate, it's heaven. It's living a life full of living water, and food beyond measure. It's walking every so slowwwwwwwwllllly toward He who made it all possible.

Clearly I will never know what possessed the turtle to turn around and retreat safely toward whatever comes next. Nor will I ever truly know what possessed me to do the same thing.

I only know we both did. One day, heck, one minute headed toward disaster if not death, eternal separation and such. The next...

I know both of us will indeed walk that true walk into death one day, but we won’t this day, apparently. We’ve turned back, turned away, turned toward and we’ve been given that which is sufficient.

We’ve been given life.

Another day.

Another try.

Another chance.

We're both still walking. Heck, we might even be swimming in that living water soon.

There is that thing about the river coming rolling out of the throne room.

I pray I get to see that.

Well, me and Leonardo the turtle.

Kowabunga, dude.