After taking a closer look, I realized this pic says so much. Its all there. (Click on pic to enlarge)

There's dad in lane 4 moving towards lane 5. There's only six lanes. Could these lanes be life?

Look where I'm at. Lane 1. It feels that way. Dad is 83 years old. I'm 43. I started walking with him in the morning. Yes, I battle the voices that say "you should have started walking sooner". But those voices ring from yesterday and thank God, yesterday is gone. So are those voices. They die with the day past. Today I walk with dad.

Dad walks ahead of me because he is. Yet I still keep my eyes on him. My eyes stay on him because he's showing me how to walk through lanes 1-5. He's been there. He knows. Yet in his own frailty from the long journey, I also keep an eye on him in case he falls. Lanes 4-6 are not easy. He moves slower through those than he did 1-4. And I don't know how to walk there just yet. But he does. Don't be fooled by the pace of the elderly. In that pace is surety, wisdom, experience.

His shirt is bright yellow. Thank God. I can see him up ahead. His testimony has had the same brilliance. When God saved him, it was from a very dark place. He's been shining ever since. Perfect? We're talking about Dad, not Jesus. But Dad has always pointed the way towards Christ. I have never questioned The Way in my own life, though I may have rebelled against it. But those were my choices. My dad has never offered me a smoke, a toke, a drag, a puff, a drink, a peek, or anything else to numb my pain or satisfy the cravings of my sinful flesh. He's only presented The Way as the answer. He really had nothing else to offer. He even showed me the way in the physical, putting me on his lap to teach me how to read a map.

Dad don't lie. He never has since I was born. Tell him he lied and he'll break every other commandment to let you know you were wrong in accusing him of a lie. No room for lies. Truth be told.

Can't wait till tomorrow morning. I'll be walking with dad. Maybe I'll even get into lane 2. We'll see.