There are so many thoughts rambling around that I don’t really know where to start other than to just take a stab at it and hope I hit some sort of target somewhere on this planet.
I have reached that point in my life where things that came naturally to me for so many years are now beginning to require a little maintenance. Relationships that seemed to flow without effort, now seem to take a little more time and energy to keep healthy and vibrant.
To this end, Sandi and I went out for breakfast this past Sunday morning at a place called the “Village Cafe” in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. It’s a bistro type place right smack dab in the middle of this little touristy town and most of the tables are out doors under the trees on a large patio. When we arrived we were asked if we wanted shade, full sun or a combination of the two. We chose a combination and I kept my sunglasses on and let Sandi sit on the shady side of the table.
If we had been in New York City we would have been doing the same thing. We ordered coffee and eggs benedict and talked and thoroughly enjoyed the time together.
After breakfast, we walked around a small little park built around a man made lake and then explored a trail that we had walked several years ago. The trail begins at a parking lot and follows a creek for about two miles—most of it downhill. After that, we found our car and made our way home—Sandi to the garden and I to a 23 mile bike ride with a couple of buddies.
Then it was lunch with friends and off to church—almost a “normal” Sunday.
It seems we have a tendancy to get so caught up in the drama of our lives that we forget to put time into the stuff that really matters. In the process of trying to make some sense out of the loss surrounding us leaving a church—a body of believers—we had been a part of for 22 years—I have not taken as much time to enjoy the daily journey as I should. I have let the “worries and cares” of life take the edge off of who I am. That would not be so bad if who I am was easy to come by—but I am a work in process—just doing what I do and being who I am takes a little extra effort each and every day. The sentences of my life are run-on and filled with words that I have to look up on dictionary dot com just to make sure I am using them correctly.
I am almost convinced that what I am feeling can be accurately expressed but am not as sure that I can ever reach that place of understanding with words that are currently in my backpack. Or that in reaching that place I would feel a release that would propel me into the creative future that I have envisioned. What kind of movie would this make anyway—it would be a critical favorite but the box office take would be way off expectations.
I must once again remind myself that flawed men were inspired by God to write the Bible.
I wonder if Moses ever figured out what was going on as he thought back to that incident about striking the rock instead of speaking to it so that the water would flow. I wonder if David had a clue as to why Absalom turned out the way he did.
If anybody ever really figured it out in my mind it would have to be Paul—another flawed hero of mine. But then I remember that he had plenty of time to reflect and ponder while he was under house arrest.
In all of this I must remember that life doesn’t always come at us in an easy way—sometimes we have to struggle to make sense out of what is happening around us. The beavers in our life are busy chopping down the little birches that will eventually block the flow of whatever creek they fall into. Sometimes instead of clearing the blockage, we simply re-route the river and continue our lives—and although the flow of fresh water is reduced there is still enough flowing to sustain growth.
I have often wondered what was really going on In Moses’ mind as he climbed Mt. Nebo in order to look at the promised land and be told that he would not enter into it. That at 120 years old he would die on that mountain, even though we are told that his eye was not dim not his natural strength abated. That’s a picture for the ages right there: to be able to see the face of Moses as he realized that he had traveled his last mile on this earth. Was he relieved or broken-hearted—did he “…go gentle into that good night” or did some deep emotion well up in him as he began to think about all the work that there was still to do.
We may never know and that may be the point as well—life is worth the effort—friendship is worth the effort—becoming all that we can be in this body is worth the effort as well—though we may never reach the point we are aiming for. Perfection will never be attained this side of the veil—so we might as well go a little easier on ourselves and enjoy what is left of our lives. That’s a ride we can really write about.