The Ride

It seems to be there are only two things we know for sure.  One, we are born...because if you're reading this, you were born.  And two, we will die.  I know, such a downer, but that one is for sure.

But how, when, and where is the big mystery, isn't it?

In between is full of the unknown.  And this is the stuff that feeds the anxiety, the depression, the control freak's nightmare.  We fill our calendars with schedules and appointments.  We get up on time to get to our jobs on time.  We go home the same way each day and pull in the driveway of our homes thinking about what will be for dinner.  And in the complacency of our daily routines we can settle in to a safe place. A routine.  Our normal.  On our tracks.

And then the phone rings....bad news.  Or someone knocks on the door....bad news.  Or a co-worker calls in sick and when they return it's with bad news. 

Oh, sometimes it's good news.  The phone rings....a baby is born healthy.  Someone knocks on the door...we found your dog down the street.  A co-worker makes you laugh and you feel such a connection. 

 

Bumper Cars.


We are just rolling around this arena of life on our little tracks.  And then bump.  Bump it hurts.  Bump it makes you laugh hysterically. Days with no bumps.  Days with nothing but bumps.

The best part of growing older (one must try to find a "best" about it) is that one can look back and see all of the bumps and how they worked out.  Your house didn't sell and then a new neighbor moved in and became the best friend that was made at the age of 35.  That job that came to an end and a new job appeared so easily.  The "oops" pregnancy that turned in to the most adored son and brother.

Oh, we steer those bumper cars of ours.  We plan and plan and steer and steer.  But still....bump. 


Bump. 



Bump.




And then after the bump....always we get back in the clear. Nothing is in the way of our tracks.  Always after a bump, things clear up.

It's a bump.  And maybe it's several bumps.  But then a new normal comes after the bump. 

We get up, we eat, we deal, we go back to bed.  Back in the clear...on our track.

And while we're on the ride we stay in that car.  And we steer and we bump.  And we cry and we laugh.  Because it's not over until it's over. 


And what fun would it be really, if we just got in that bumper car and the car never moved?

We could avoid the bad bumps...but we would avoid the good ones, too.