Daylight softens around the edges at the Casa, and the dusk and dew conspire to start falling simultaneously. Mom is off somewhere getting a little two-wheeled therapy on the Yamaha, and the hummingbirds have descended en masse in a last ditch effort to decimate our sugar reserves before nightfall is complete.
Sunday night should be the most peaceful time of the week, but often the exact opposite is true; anxiety begins to build before the work week even begins. What does Monday hold? What meaningless reports are due, just so someone higher up the food chain can ease his/her anxieties, justifying their worth to their own “superiors”? And secretly, they all know what utter bovine excrement they are shoveling up and down the corporate ladder, but that’s the rut in which many of us find ourselves, and you know what a rut is:
A grave with both ends knocked out.
Dad’s grandfather used to tell of a frog that was stuck in a rut, claiming that the walls were too steep for him to escape. One day a wagon appeared, the iron shod wheel approaching inexorably, and the frog suddenly found strength that he didnt know he had, and leapt for freedom with as much energy as a politician seeing a camera.
Monday, you or I may see our own particular wagon wheels approaching, but that may be a good thing, if it forces us to exit our ruts and find a better way. For, just like mr exiting my crate, there is always a better way. Every setback can and will serve as a set-up for the next “big thing”, and trust me, no matter how good or how bad your current situation may be, something better is out there waiting to be discovered.
Consider dad’s own timeline the last few years, in a nutshell, so to speak:
Turns fifty; father in law dies unexpectedly, all focus on the final arrangements; instead of birthday celebration, pity party gets thrown instead… is this all there is?
Then he meets Trevor, and life takes a dramatic turn, based on service to others. The travels start at a time when most would be winding down:dad instead gets wound up, and miraculous things begin to happen almost daily.
Then, that phase of life comes to an end, without a satisfactory ending; again, what was that all about? Nothing was resolved, and once again the doubts creep in.
Then the motorcycle accident that left him with a ruptured colon, a mountain of debt, and a constant feeling that EVERYONE could sniff out the fact that he was sporting a colostomy bag. Depression forced him onto the Honda on a cold January day that any sane person sporting a poopy Pez dispenser and a gaping abdominal wound would have wisely stayed in, and as a result, he found me.
The story began to slowly gain steam,due in part to Joey the Garden Cat’s coverage and the posts on Facebook from a dog’s point of view. Then, the very day of dad’s colostomy reversal, Little Rock experienced a record spring snowfall, and the surgery had to be postponed.
Dad was NOT pleased.
At a time when he should have been on the operating table being forcibly divorced from Rollo the Remoric Appliance, he found himself snowbound in front of the computer; this was the day that Something caused my story to go viral. We watched the posts skyrocket from all parts of the globe, it was truly a life changing experience.
Three years pass, job lost, job found, kids move out and on with their lives, every “not so good” experience followed by something incredible.
Then the biggie: without going into detail, longtime relationships and issues of a denominational bent came to an abrupt conclusion. Around this same time, dad’s dad died, and it seemed like a good time to step back, or forward as the case may be, and re-evaluate our particular spot at the crossroads. Then the book finally reached completion, I was nominated as an Arkansas Ambassador for Motorcycling, (a HUGE honor, as far as I’m concerned) and once again, it’s onward through the fog.
What does all this have in common? Every temporary set back is actually a set up for the next leg of the journey. And if nothing else transpires from this day forward, thanks to you,it has already been the ride of a lifetime. Even though we may never physically meet, the relationships forged through this page make any sacrifice worthwhile; we be of one blood, ye and I.
Oh, and about that whole “if nothing else transpires, blah, blah, blah” nonsense, have no fear; I’m just hitting my stride, and I’ve too much to gain to lose.
See you on the road.
