Robin Hood is gone

I have been living in this house for 26 years, and at the end of my street is a service station that has always been the domain of Robin Hood. That's his name, I'm not kidding. In the early years our relationship was, shall we say, utilitarian: I came to his office only when my car had need.

Somewhere along the line I bought a foreign car, and Robin only serviced American-made vehicles, so our relationship faded: a few words of greeting when I walked past on the way to the town center, and eventually just a cursory wave of the hand. Later still, he seems to have snagged a contract with U.S. Postal Service because I saw only mail trucks on his lot.

But in the last year or so I have been noticing unfamiliar faces coming in and out of the garage. It took a while for it to sink in that Robin had finally sold the business and retired (or …). There is a new sign up and a new look, and in a few years no one will remember that there was ever a man who held court at the corner of Paxson and Keswick by the name of Robin Hood.

"Now there arose a new king over Egypt, who did not know Joseph" (Exodus 1:8).

A few things went through my mind this morning as I was walking by on my way back from the grocery store. One was from Psalms:

"As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more" (Psalm 103:15-16).

Another was words Jesus said to his disciples when they were all enamored of the beautiful buildings that made up the temple precinct:

"Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down" (Mark 13:2).

It was slightly bitter but overall a good thing to view this sight today. It reminded me that there are not so many miles to walk before I sleep, and that I had better get serious about what and Who I say I'm living for.