Darkness Drive
I’m sitting the passenger seat as my roommate drives around the curvy mountain road across the street from our condo. It’s almost midnight and the trees rest their branches over the road. The bright headlights are on, but we can only see a few feet in the distance. It doesn’t feel like we are racing, but we’re going fast enough for me to feel the adrenaline oozing in my veins. The destination is an open field where the moon looks closer and brighter and the fireflies try to hide in the grass. David Crowder’s song Open Skies is playing when we get there. We worship.
I realize It is cliché to compare my life to a car ride, a road trip, or a journey of any-kind. Regardless of the lack of impact by long overuse, my life is so much like this drive: my foresight only shines a few hours, maybe days in front of me and my road is curvy, quickly up and down, left and right. One minute I’m in New York, the next Nashville. One minute I have a many jobs, the next I’m barely working part time. One minute I can run for miles the next I’m in the ER for 14 hours.
But I have hope because I’m going somewhere and God went before me, he’ll be there with me, and he’ll be there when I’m gone.
… maybe I should write a parody on Tom Cochrane’s “Life is a Highway.”