50 Hours to 50!

When I started writing this, I was about 50 hours away from turning 50. For my big day, I hopped in the car and took a road trip! Like ancient Jonah, I was running in the opposite direction of convention. I went East, the way of the sunrise, towards new beginnings, towards Mecca…because; a new day is dawning…

I am not unfamiliar with solo adventures – but this one is different. Of late, I have been finding and forging my own path. Cultivating the soil of my mind in different ventures, books, and ways of thinking about the world in which I find myself and finding myself along the way. 

With that in mind, I will be sharing some abstract reflections –

This trip, with its many miles along the highways and byways, has me taking stock of who and what is important. One thing I know to be true, I am here to make a difference in other people’s lives. With that, for many years, I was my parent’s caretaker. I am here to tell you; caring for the elderly is not for the faint of heart…It is the most rewarding and under-appreciated work a person can do for another. My parents appreciated what I did; others seemed less so…especially once they were no longer with us.

When I was in that role, I got lost. I assumed many of their beliefs, I went to church, drank the Kool-Aid, and believed as they did, as they told me to. I drank in their conservative ways and questioned nothing. Both of my parents are gone now, and I regret nothing in terms of being there for them.

Regarding myself, I regret everything. Ok, that might be a bit of an overstep, but I do have some places that are still a little “sore.” For instance, when I was with them, I found it “hard to breathe.” Especially before my father passed away. He was a good man, but somehow, living with him was stifling to me. It has been six years since he passed away, but I still have not been able to take a full breath. (Figuratively speaking) My lungs are still like butterfly wings, fresh from the chrysalis, weak yet grown, and sometimes they still groan with the new air, filling as if they were full of new wine. 

As I drove from northern Kentucky to Spartanburg, South Carolina… my route contained a scenic wonderland, silver-tipped mountains, and a shallow but dangerous river. Rocks lined the bed of it, as noted in the flowing rapids. One could see where it had risen recently, leaving a torrent of chaos in its wake.

Then, just over the border into Tennessee, on the right side of the road, in the outer banks of a parking lot, sat an abandoned mini carnival, complete with a Ferris wheel. On the left side was an enormous cross followed directly by an adult theater/toy store. Oh, humanity, how you never cease to amuse…

On the flip side, the sun shone on the trees above, making them glow in low winter light. Further along, I drove past a trailer painted with whimsical designs painted on its broad side, perched precariously on the edge of the road and the drop-off below. It seemed out of place along that stretch of road. Old stone buildings and a small gas station with community picnic tables gave a cozy feel to the roadway. 

Yet, there was always an extra layer of life clinging to the exteriors of everything I passed. It was as if the harsh landscape wore off on those around it, giving everything a hardscrabble look. There was a pervasive sense of “lived in abandonment”. Someone was still living there, but the heartbeat of it had gone the way of Elvis…

What I found along this roadway, besides a regular size gas station called “Country Boys Mini Mall, Fat Daddy’s Auto Repair, and Momma Bear, ‘ambulance chaser’ law firm.” Was first a sense of peace like none other. And second, more of my artistic soul. As I was driving, I kept peeling away the debris, the rubble from a crushed spirit. I found who I am to become more of. I found lost parts of a storyteller’s voice, different parts of an amateur iPhone photographer, and someone who has been in exile far too long…I found I am ready to leave my “profession-al” life and ready to take on my vocational life. No longer will I just have a job I profess to do yet quenches the fire in my belly. 

Instead, it will consist of an active pursuit of my calling. What I was put here to do with greater clarity. I found the joy in having the first word, the one that gets the conversation started! There is no value in seeking the last word, not when it comes to Spirit and the edifying building of people… I am not here to pin down the butterfly. In other words, it is a rebuilding of how we see “church, God, and others.” Teaching and re-teaching how to love and love well. Starting with myself…