The Way Home. Irene Hannon

Fine. How’s everything there?”

      “Same as always. Quiet. Things don’t change much in the mountains, you know. But tell me about you. I know there’s a lot more going on in Atlanta than there is here.”

      Cal relayed some recent events that he knew his father would enjoy hearing about—the black-tie dinner, though he made no mention of the auction part of the evening, a meeting he’d had with the mayor earlier in the week, the publicity the Jamie Johnson trial was receiving. As usual, his father ate it up.

      “My, son! You sure do lead an exciting life. But you deserve all your success. You worked hard for it. And I’m proud of you. I was just telling Mike Thomas about the governor’s commission you were appointed to. He was real impressed.”

      Cal felt the old familiar knot begin to form in his gut. His father was a kind, gentle, decent man who’d never had a break in his entire life. He’d spent his youth and middle age barely scraping by, handicapped by limited education and limited opportunity as he struggled to support a son and an ailing wife. He’d worked with his hands all his life, accepting that as his lot but dreaming of better things for Cal. Now he was living Cal’s success vicariously. If his son returned to the mountains, in whatever capacity, the older man would be sorely disappointed, Cal knew. But there had to be a line somewhere between responsibility to his father and to himself. He just wasn’t sure where it was.

      Up until now he’d done everything that was expected of him—by others and by himself. He gave his job one hundred percent, and did his best to make a contribution to society. He’d provided well for Gram and his dad. They’d refused his offer to move to Atlanta, both reluctant to leave the only home they’d ever known, but he made sure they lived comfortably, that neither had to work anymore. By choice, Gram still put in a great deal of time at the craft coop she’d founded. His father, however, who had always disliked working the land, had walked away from his job without a second look, content to spend his time helping out at the church or reading, a pastime he’d had little opportunity to indulge in most of his life. They were both happy. Unfortunately, the vague discontent that had been nagging him for years had intensified dramatically in the last few months, leaving him restless and searching.

      “You coming home to visit soon, son?” His father interrupted his thoughts.

      “I hope so, Dad.” The sudden weariness in his voice reflected the burden of decision he was struggling with, and he tried for a more upbeat tone. “It’s hard to get away, though. Things are pretty busy.”

      “I understand. You have an important job. I’m sure they need you there. But your room is always waiting, anytime you can get away. You’ll come up sometime later in the spring, won’t you?”

      “Of course. Have I ever missed spring in the mountains?”

      The older man chuckled. “Can’t say you have. One thing about you, son. You’re reliable. We can always count on you.”

      The knot in Cal’s gut tightened. “I’m not perfect, Dad.”

      “Maybe not. But I sure wouldn’t trade you in. You take care, now.”

      “All right, Dad. Tell Gram I said goodbye.”

      Cal replaced the receiver and wearily let his head drop back against the chair. He needed to make some decisions, and he needed to make them soon. There were rumors that he was being considered for a promotion to the coveted position of prosecuting attorney. He should be happy. It was what he was supposed to have been working toward all these years. Instead, it just made him feel more pressured, more trapped. If he was going to make a change, this was the time, before he got so deeply entrenched in his urban career and lifestyle that he couldn’t get out.

      Cal closed his eyes. He wanted to go back to the mountains, back to the place where he felt more in touch with nature, with himself and with his God. Cal hadn’t let his spiritual life slip since coming to the city. It was too important to him to neglect. But it was harder here to retain a sense of balance, to stay focused on the really important things in life. There were too many distractions, too many demands, too much emphasis on materialism, power, prestige and “getting ahead.”

      Cal’s priorities had always been different. Position and money meant nothing to him personally. Their only value, as far as he could see, was that they gave him the means to help others who were less fortunate. In his job, he did his best to see justice served, which helped humanity in general. That, in turn, provided a good income, which allowed him to make life better for Gram and his father. And he was able to contribute both time and dollars to the causes he believed in, such as Saint Vincent’s. So plenty of good had come from his career choice. Was he being selfish to consider changing the status quo?

      Cal rose, walked restlessly over to the window and stared pensively out at the city lights. In his heart, he wanted to go home, back to the mountains where he could spend his days free of the confines of concrete and steel and glass. There was a part of him deep inside that had always yearned to share the beauty of nature with others hungry for nourishment for their souls. Though he had no specific plans for it, he’d completed a degree in forestry last year by going tonight school. It was just something he’d wanted to do, and he’d shared the accomplishment with very few. Even Gram didn’t know.

      Cal sighed. He knew that few people would understand his feelings about the mountains. Certainly no one in the city, and very few at home. Gram did. But not his father. And the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint the man who had sacrificed so much for him. As his father saw it, Cal was his one success in life. If Cal scaled down his lifestyle, gave up his high-profile job and moved back home, his father would feel that all his efforts had been for nothing, that he was a failure after all. And Cal didn’t know if he could do that to the man who had given him life and love so abundantly. Nor was he sure he should walk away from his present job, knowing he was good at it and that he did, sometimes, make a difference.

      Cal jammed his fists into his pockets and looked up at the sky, trying to discern the stars that shone so brightly in the mountains but here were dimmed by the glare of city lights.

      Lord, I need Your guidance, he prayed. I want to do the right thing, but I need direction. I need to know Your will. You know I want to go home, that my heart is most at peace in the mountains. But maybe my dad’s needs and my work here are more important. Please help me make the decision that best serves You. And, Lord—please do it soon. Because I feel like a man in limbo. I’m torn between two worlds, and I don’t think I can give my best to either until this issue is resolved.