writing. I really appreciate the fact that all five of you keep visiting the Garage.
And the fact that you do keeps me
typing. So thanks.
It’s been a unique August as well
as the two weeks of Pre-August (or the last two weeks of July for you Julian calendar aficionados). There was the build-up to the wedding of the DAGU (Daughter
All Grown Up), three days of preparation and family in the City,
and then the Day.
Fantastic time.
And for every high there comes a
low.
Yeah.
Enter the Crash.
Say goodbye to adrenaline and the City and new experiences.
Say hello to those old
friends of “fatigue” and “home” and “the status quo”.
The Funk be upon me.
And when this happens everything seems to get sucked into The Kohler Porcelain Vortex (aka “down
the toilet” in polite parlance).
I felt like the Enterprise after taking on two Klingon warships and three Romulan birds-of-prey.
Everything to shields with minimal life support.
Barely strolling through a galaxy where I’ve been before, my 24-hour mission:
just make it through the honkin’ day.
I’m trying to put my situation into perspective. Into something understandable.
Now if you’ve visited the Garage more than a couple of times, you
realize this is where the Elixir of Knowledge comes in…and the Divine Nudge, (which on occasion has been elevated, out of necessity, to a Divine Head Slap).
I’ve downed a couple cups of the Elixir while looking out into
the pre-dawn darkness.
And from darkness, my mind wanders into the Tunnel.
The Tunnel on the Roller Coaster at River View Park.
River View Park was a place I visited during every phase of growing up.
Elementary School birthdays and
Sunday School outings – River View
Park.
Jr Hi Youth Group outings – River
View Park.
Senior Hi Youth Group outings –
River View Park.
And at River View Park I was introduced to the Great Dare of any group of children.
Uh huh.
The Roller Coaster.
I can still hear the words.
“Betcha too chicken to
ride the ‘Coaster.”
Stupid testosterone.
Stupid giggling girls.
Stupid me.
And I still remember that first ride.
The clicking cars left the platform, making a right turn to allow a bed-wetting view of latticed mountains made of white-painted wood before slowly
clattering into...the Tunnel.
I didn’t like that part.
Not at all.
Never liked the dark.
Freud would say it goes back to when the Cousins locked me in an upstairs closet for about three weeks before Mom came looking for
me.
The three weeks, that’s in Kids
Time.
Or an hour regular-time.
Same difference.
The Tunnel was like a rolling
closet. Darkness covered everything. The car jerking erratically. The noise of people screaming, yelling, laughing.
The clanking and clicking of wheels
on tracks. And me on a wide wooden seat with a tetanus-grip on the “safety” bar.
It was so bad that I had to restart the Lord’s Prayer four times,
losing my train of thought right around the “Valley of Death” part.
(Hey, don’t ever let them tell you that Sunday School doesn’t work.)
And that’s kinda how I’ve felt the
last, well, month.
Yeah. In the Tunnel.
But a few days ago the daily reading in “My Utmost for His Highest” kinda jarred me loose.
It’s not about me and my
situation.
Me and my circumstances.
It’s all about me and Him.
I’m not in the dark alone.
There’s Someone in the seat beside me, an Arm around my shoulder holding me close, holding me tight and safe. Even when I can’t see a honkin’ thing. And I know the dark will end because He says it will.
Of course, there’s still the terrifyingly-slow vertical climb that has me reciting the Lord’s
Prayer, the 23rd Psalm,
and most of the “Romans Road”.
And the climb is just the precursor to an incredible eye-popping rush that causes my smile to almost split my face (but I think that might be the g-force).
Yeah.
Never alone.
That’s the one BIG thing I need to
remember.
Ya know, I even think we sang about
it at my high school graduation.
“You’ll ne-ver riiiiiiiide a-lone.”
Or something like that.