So, here's to good friends, good times and great weekends, especially those filled with death-defying experiences. Perhaps I should expound upon that last statement.
First came the surviving Grandma's house with dignity in tact, a rough and noble quest which has claimed the lives of countless cousins and other relatives. Thankfully I have an absolutely amazing sister whose philosophies in life include statements such as "I like who I am, if you don't it's not my problem," and "So what's wrong with Black and White?"
Second was the James Stewart museum in Indiana, PA. I love Jimmy Stewart. Enough said.
Then the roller coaster of doom threatened our beings not once, not twice, but three times. The last time included a ride in the first car and flying out of our seats so high that we could see the front of the car descending in front of us as thoughts of maintaining a horizon were replaced by hopes and dreams of survival while fans watched the baseball team warm up in the field below us.
Sunday included pushing alto vocal chords into realms preferred by the crazy sopranos in my life. Ahh, I love them and often wonder how that doesn't hurt.
Finally, came the scariest test of all, driving back to Washington DC through torrential rain and flash flooding. The first hydroplane caught our driver and fearless navigator off guard, but tales of Chinese students and calm voices recalling tales of glory, lame jokes, and most important prayers pulled us through. As covering the backroads from Frederick to DC, I caught myself questioning the wisdom of the backroads with the storm raging, but the peace beyond all measure reassured each time that it was the best move. Its was only the next day when hearing news reports of accidents and other travel trials that the full import of avoiding delayed and crowded interstates could be understood and fully appreciated.
The storm clouds gathered in front of us as we descended south of the Mason-Dixon line. The sky grew dark early and a eerily beautiful pink and greenish-gray overtook the sky. As our steadfast navigator kept keen eyes forward he probed passengers for stories to fill the silence, break the tension, and bring a calming presence to the vehicle as it pushed on into the impending madness of the storm. The driver held fast to the roadway, maintaining a tense but fragile command of the car as it battled the elements.
Soon the rain fell swift and hard upon the windshield, taking over the air with deafening thunder crashes and rapid-fire splatters of liquid energy. Large puddles gathered on the macadam stretching out ominously before our eyes. Lightning flashed with a phantasmagorical beauty that inspired both awe and fearful wonder for a God in control of such raw elements. Thunder claps reasserted His power over our safety and the weary and hardened world being overflowed and stretched with the bounty of gracious rain.
Like the introduction to a Poe lyric or a Melville novel, the pinkish sky quickly faded to black, the deep, brooding black of continuous battle which requires the purest light to pierce its bleakness. It was as this color shifted that the water first significantly removed our tires from the road. Fingertips feeling desperately for the push of the water though their grip on the steering wheel and muscle memory gained from a wise father teaching his daughter how to correct in adverse conditions provided the tools needed for God to keep the vehicle safely on the road. The calming voice of a navigator saying good job and moving on allowed for a relaxing concentration to enable the driver to continue on through the storm’s fray. Only a driving presence of God’s strength in conjunction with the calming presence of a good navigator kept the obviously blessed passengers safely en route home.
As the routine of hydroplaning and defensive avoidance of tree limbs progressed, bright light spilt the sky less than mile directly in front of the car. A vivid, pale blue flash sent sparks flying as the sky rolled with deafening vibrations. A transformer taking a hit obviously meant for the ground.
Safely past the transformer, a new challenge soon appeared as vehicles stopped in both directions before an obviously overwhelmed stream. Waiting behind smaller vehicles, we sent numerous prayers heavenward through the awesome power of the elements. Calculations of ground clearance, vehicle weight, already water logged mechanics, and observations of other vehicles successfully fording the stream, allowed for our driver to act find a niche through the rushing flood water when the ok came through our prayers.
Fording the overflowing stream required a break for our driver to relieve the ever building tension in her muscles as she prayed constantly that God would allow her to see her friends safely home. And while pausing, one of the most apropos moments of the trip occurred in the form of a voice mail message saying, I'm praying for your safe travels. We were blessed with safety because others heard a call to prayer and obeyed it without knowing the full import of what those words could mean for our troop as we forded streams and continued to battle flash flooding, flooded and abandoned vehicles, and the ever pouring rain.
Safely reaching Washington DC, from Pennsylvania, a trip often taken for granted, took on new meaning. It became an ebenezer, a pilgrimage of God’s faithfulness to His children, a true mile marker of faith and the power of God in His world and in our lives.
