Creekbank Blog

The writing blog of Curt Iles and Creekbank Stories. Our mission: To connect hearts to God by using stories of encouragement and inspiration.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009


3 am, 40 miles, 4 trucks, 2 cups of coffee

I left home this morning at 3:00 am, on my way to the Houston airport, then Denver for a writing conference. On my forty mile drive from Dry Creek to DeQuincy, I only meet four vehicles—all trucks.

The road is quiet. The woods are dark. It’s peaceful. Out my car window I visit with old friends: The Hunter, The Big Dog, Pegasus the Horse, and the Seven Sisters. These are winter constellations, still low on the southern horizon. Their presence, just like the shorter days and
recent cool spells, are reminders that our season is changing.

With the few houses, and fewer lights, along highways 113 and 190, I have a good view of these stars out my window. For the millionth time in my life, I thank God I live in the country.

I’m not alone, even though the road is empty. I poured two cups of coffee before leaving home. Both now sit in console cupholders. I recall the words of T.W. Hunt, the author of The Mind of Christ, “Sometimes when I’ve not felt as close to the Lord as I wish, I’ll pour a second cup of coffee and take it with me to my back porch table. Setting the second cup down, I’ll say, ‘Lord, I just want to invite you to have a cup of coffee with me. This morning—today—I want more
than anything to just visit with you.’”

I’ve never forgotten Dr. Hunt’s story. The act of that second cup doesn’t bring God’s presence to us. He’s already here. It simply makes us aware of this presence. That’s what fellowship is : enjoying being in the presence of Someone you love and admire.

Honestly, my second cup of coffee was poured so I wouldn’t have to stop before Vidor, Texas for more. But in the drivers seat of our Oldsmobile, in the darkness of an early morning, it reminds me to just talk with the Lord as I travel south and then west.

It’s ironic that my drive to the Houston airport takes longer than my flight to Denver will.
As I near Houston on I-10 traffic picks up on the inbound lanes. Cars, trucks, and 18 wheelers pass as the first pink light of another day dawns behind us.

They’d find it odd that I started my drive at 3 am, drove forty miles and only met four vehicles, and had two cups on coffee with seemingly only one occupant in the car. They think I'm driving solo-- no HOV lane for me, but I'm not alone.

It’s going to be a good day.
It already is.

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