has a story: A little bit back, I was on a late night drive with a friend. We were both exhausted. I had been up since five that morning, and she had been literally on her feet since eight that morning, almost. She also had work the next morning. Due to random (awesome) happenstance, we didn’t get on our way until a couple hours later than planned. I told her just to sleep, but she refused. She knew that I wanted to curl up and go to sleep about as much as she did and was willing to stay up with me. I refused that, staying quiet so she could rest, at least for the first hour. She rested, yes, yet she persisted in staying awake, keeping an eye on me and making sure I was okay. As we got closer in to town (and my eyelids tried to get closer in to each other), she began to sing. Showtunes, even! Few things are better for keeping me awake. Most of them were songs I didn’t know well enough to join her on (or stay on key). She didn’t look at the road, trusting that to my driving. Instead, she watched over me. Friendship and love are like that. Our life journeys are hard and long. Things don’t always start when we want them to, nor do they end when we wish. Some of us -- and I am certainly one -- can be hard to love, either always or often. Some of us find it hard to love. The same stuff can cause either (or both-er!): we can get too caught up in our own lives, in classes, work, services, our tiredness and busyness, to notice those around us. Those in need of reaching. Those who are reaching to us. It is difficult to stay up and watch one hour, difficult to lay aside our besetting challenges, easy or otherwise, our own fault or others. All good road trips have bumps, turns, stretches of mind-numbing monotony. It is easy to get lost and crash if we are left on our own. I’m glad you watch over me. I’m glad we can get home safe. I’m glad we can love. I’m glad I love you. It’s totally worth the ride.
Posted on: Wed, 25 Sep 2013 05:20:57 +0000
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