When we drive, I sit at attention. I try not to worry but I do worry, especially when the road is narrow and the drop off is steep. I listen to music and look up at the trees passing by and I don’t actively think of tragedy, but sometimes it comes in flashes. It comes uninvited. The image of the far slipping off the road, rolling down the hill; broken glass and blood and could I even reach my cell phone?
The images come and go, and there are so many of them, and they are full color like my television.
The images come and go, and there are so many of them, and they are full color like my television.
I stand guard, and I bat away the images and replace them with what I actually see in front of me: sunshine and beautiful trees and a husband who is a capable driver. But danger is also real, and it harasses me with that fact when I try to deny it.
One day, I got tired of the fight.
I reclined my seat, all the way back, I took out my pony tail, and I laid down. I laid myself down in the car as it barreled along on a narrow strip with a cliff to eternity on all sides. I closed my eyes. I felt sun on my face, a gentle breeze from the air conditioning. I could see nothing but color behind my eyelids, red, then black, then red, as we drove under the trees.
The miles whooshed by, and I laid there in the sun, not entirely safe, but not in danger, either.
I shall lie down and sleep in peace,
for you alone,
O Lord, make me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8
Do you ever feel like you are standing on the edge of eternity?