A Day In the Life

The cable guy showed up at 7:30am, rounding off a solid 4.5 hours of sleep for me. Saving my mother from having to solely deal with him, I got up, lazily got dressed and cleaned out closets, etc, as he needed to access certain lines. He was an energetic man and fun to talk to, even at such a horrific hour of the morning.

Next on the agenda was to make bread! I've been meaning to for a while and finally got around to it, and Lord knows I can't go back to sleep when I've awoken and the sun is out. Moist banana bread does something for my soul... Or my tastebuds; what's the difference? It was much easier than I expected and I left it to bake in the bread-maker while I went to my tennis class at the Junior College. Tennis was fun and afterward I ran into Chris Beatty, an old church friend who has also spent some time in Canada!

When I arrived home after that fun morning and refreshing rendesvous, my surgery-recovering mother was hungry for lunch, and she had the kind of post-op hunger only a burrito could answer. After briefly tasting the bread (which was good, but dry), I left the house again.

The road to the burrito ran right past Doctor's Medical Center, and as I passed I saw an old, ragged man on a wheelchair, propelling himself backwards with one foot. It must have been easier than using his arms. As I began to pass him, a loud question boomed within me: "Why not ask to help him?" It's just a question, maybe he'll say no. My next immediate thought was more interesting: "How can you ever teach Jesus-stuff without doing something like this?" So I betrayed my comfort zone, rolled down my window, and asked, "Hey bud, are you okay - do you want a hand?" Alright, that's two questions, but he still answered, "Yeah, actually... I'm trying to get to the bus stop!" Agreeing to help, I stabled Shadowfax, my white Jeep, in a nearby parking lot and approached the man. I said I could push him down the road and so I did, but this is very important; it was only after I introduced myself as James and asked his name, shaking his gnarly hand. If I didn't shake his hand, what's the point of doing the whole thing? I wasn't afraid to shake his hand because I thought maybe his life experience, his dignity, and his overall manliness would overcome the dirt and germs in those etched callouses, transferring to my hands some of what I've always wanted... Because if Rusty were a tree, he would have been an old, red maple, with knobby branches reaching out from a scarred bark, with dried-up leaves and a white moss growing upon it.

After our quick introduction I began pushing him down the road, and asked questions. I learned that Rusty had just gotten out of the hospital, was taking the bus to the Greyhound, hoping his son could take care of him, and was still in some significant discomfort. We got to the stop and I parked him next to the bench. Finding out that he needed nothing further, I asked if I could pray for his pain. He said something that almost froze me. He said, "Well sure, that always helps." I sought for physical healing, I asked that his son would look out for him, and prayed that he would always know his Father in heaven loved him and is taking care of him. Rusty was all for this prayer and when we said our "Amens," a lady sharing the bench asked me what church I go to, and she told me hers. Another web was spun, a yarn weaved as it turns out she goes to church with a good friend of mine from school! We both know Jamie and then the bus came. I said my goodbyes and Rusty thanked me about 5 times with the most sincere smile - it truly made me feel like my simple obedience actually, honestly, helped somebody. And by God was it so easy.

I dropped off the burrito and went to give blood. It's something I care about, another easy thing to do that makes a difference, and everyone knows the best part is the unlimited, free snacks and juice once you're done! I make myself watch every time the voluminous needle goes in my arm. Is that weird? Probably. But I got a voucher for a pint of ice cream and watched a girl almost faint, so it was an eventful time.

A few hours at home to reproduce some blood cells helped me rest a bit before work, which was standard. After work, though, there was a man parked just past an exit with his hazards on, at about 12:30 in the morning. Again, I made myself admit that I wasn't in a real hurry, and if I were him, I would have loved some help with a flat tire. I rolled down my window and asked the question, and he answered an enthusiastic, "Yes!" So I parked safely and learned his problem, while a kind-hearted man cycling by stopped with us. We learned that the tool that takes off the lugnuts was the wrong size for his car. After a few moments of brainstorming, he used my phone to call his family (because he didn't have one and I hypothesized that he could not drive away very far if he decided to actually steal my phone, given his flat tire). In the end I just gave him my number so he could call with his family member's phone when they arrived, and I could drive the short distance from my house with some tools that he wasn't sure his family would have.

I had an eventful day and one that birthed several good stories. The good stories rarely arrive when I obey my own demands for comfort and routine, but instead when I dare to meet another set of eyes face to face, admitting that we're all cut from the same cloth.

The Voyager

The flashing lights blink and scream

That something's wrong within your dream

The timeline shifts and spins around

The waters rise with threat to drown

Where are we now? It feels so wrong.

The ground is dry and lights turn on

Darkened tent, with crashing notes

Should I feel fright? I do not know

As I stand, the ground so shakes

A ball drops hard, a crack it makes

The racing line draws to me first,

My feet no longer touch the earth

I fall and fall to depths unknown

The blurring faces sing and moan

Of years and lives of fallen dreams

And I alone can hear their screams

Darkness fades, replaced  by mist 

My face, the clouds begin to kiss

Wet and wetter, my clothes are soaked

Cold and ice become my bones

My frozen mass smashes down

The icy shards float around

But melt away once they touch

The spiky plants and ground so rough

A desert dry, and wide, and long

I walk and sweat and trip and fall

When down the hill, I see the sun

Shining off a golden pond

The water makes me stand and run

Down the dunes, oasis come!

My toes are wet, my mouth is dry

But just before I'm set to dive

I hit a wall, hard and rough

The unforgiving brick has scuffed

My chest, that now groans and heaves

My arms respond and stretch and reach

Up and down and side to side

The fear pours in and blacks my eyes

Encased, the bricks almost complete

But leave a hole, with room to see

A way to go, just too small

For me to fit, so I start to claw

And rip and pull and lose my breath

About to faint, at last I slip

I slide and roll on rocks and stone

Till at last I crash upon

A rock so high, somehow I stopped

From falling off this endless drop

I catch my breath, I breathe, and breathe

I look and think and finally see

My final fear now realized

Weary, broken, I close my eyes

All those years I ate and drank

I took my fill, myself to thank

It comes to me now, so very clear

All those days were borrowed years

But this is mine, this moment here

And if I choose, there's no more fear

I step, I fall, all alone

And all my senses become one