Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Challenge, Day 9. Time to start talking about guts.

I drove my little blue Plymouth Acclaim, the one that I inherited from Grams. It was metallic light blue, with denim-blue seats and hand-cranked windows, and from the driver’s seat I could reach around to pop down all four door locks. I slid through the woods on the bending road and the gray and brown trees stood by on each side. The stickly underbrush straggled around the trunks above the orange-brown floor of leaves. The radio spooned out a feel-good song. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Those days were some of the most bittersweet. I had learned pretty early on that the fearsome, horrible pieces in my life could be very neatly hidden from the view of the greater population. Sometimes I could even hide them from myself. I could live and keep up my various faces with little effort. That was the scary part. The scarier parts were the moments of reflection; the deep, tormenting dread of what wasn’t right inside my heart. Life was and yet wasn’t serious; it was filled with highs and lows. -------------------------------------------------------------------- It was when college didn’t mean the big bad future and friends were always ready to go for a drive. When five AM dragged you out of bed to go watch the sunrise with your friend. When you could go to bed at two in the morning without the mental torment that you’d be way too knocked out to get your homework done the next day. When each little social thing was something to look forward to and a new hairstyle brought a fresh change to life. When there were no second thoughts about spending the evening driving around with just a radio, a friend, and maybe a bag or two of Swedish Fish. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Those years were finite. I would move away and start growing up in earnest. I would start learning things I thought I already knew. I would look over my shoulder at memories and easily pick out the foolishness and mistakes, the hypocrisy and deceit I lived in. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ What about today? Can someone be seventeen and twenty-three? What about silly and introspective? If not, I do not exist! I’m like a kid with an instruction manual – there are many of the old personality traits, but there are new insights to keep me grounded. And one crucial fact: I’m redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ, the Lamb. Praise God!

1 comment:

Karen Lange said...

Swedish Fish? If I'd known you had them I would have come along.

I'm 17 and 48 if you must know. I think it's a common feeling. When I get it all figured out I will let you know:)