Thing #59 I Like About Living Where I Do

[Part of a continuing series, which started here]

59. Altars. They're not physical altars (actually, one of them is), but they are altars nonetheless.

One of the things I like about living where I do are the spiritual markers I pass all the time in the area (albeit some more than others): the length of road on State Route 177 (Hamilton-Richmond Rd.) just north of Rt. 73, where one night my son, Aaron, swerved to avoid hitting a deer on the way from his girlfriend's house...and hit a tree. When I arrived on the scene, he was lying on the road, partially covered by a blanket or jacket. It turned out that, though he was in shock, he had nothing more serious than a double-broken wrist. But every time I pass that spot, or come near it, I thank God that my son was not killed, or even more seriously hurt, that night.

It's much the same with the spot on Stillwell-Beckett where one winter day my daughter, Aubrey, slid off the icy road and into a ditch. That dangerous curve has since been straightened, so the specific stretch of road is no longer there. But my memories are, and I never pass it without remembering that call, and breathing a prayer of thanks for my daughter's preservation.

There are other altars in the area, too. The literal stone altar where the Cobblestone church family first entered our South Farm property for a prayer walk soon after the 55 acres were purchased. The spot on Somerville Road where the lovely Robin totaled her Grand Am to avoid a collision with a truck that had stopped in the roadway, just over a rise in the road. And more. Altars, every one of them. Places that give me pause, and prompt prayers of thanks.