I read it over again, twice in fact, about the Impossible Dream. Suddenly I was overwhelmed by so many thoughts and memories that I felt like I was going to have an attack of claustrophobia! Claustrophobia from being closed in a small place? No, it was the feeling that I was closed into a space in time that I couldn’t change, a space that was moving so rapidly that if I didn’t keep running, I was going to fall on my face scraping my knees and my nose as I did many times as a little girl.
With these thoughts I remembered another blog that I wrote after having a heart to heart with my son about life in general. As I have just returned from taking food to my elderly aunt who is a widow, showing me the plants that she and her husband planted over forty years ago, the ponds he has built for her and all the pictures and memories she has amassed around her…and when I left her standing there holding onto a walker and telling me how much she loves me for thinking of her…there it was again…that rush of emotions that I was being closed in, but there is a truth and we can’t get away from it.
So here it is…not copied and pasted but told as I remember telling it to my son when he was just a very young man…
Life is like a Ferris wheel at the carnival. You look at it and the anticipation of the ride is almost overwhelming (there’s that word again)
…and you walk to the gate to wait your turn.
Finally, it’s your turn and you get on, waiting to be whisked up, legs swinging freely in the air just enjoying the view.
The wheel stops and you wait while someone else is getting on the ride while still others are exiting, you are halfway up by now and looking up at the people on top…
soon you are the one on top and the ride stops again while still more are entering and exiting. You’re on the top looking out at the horizon and you notice that you are beginning to descend…
you can’t see as far now,
it seems the ride has sped up and you are approaching the bottom where it is your turn to exit.
It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was a bride and then a mom holding a tiny baby girl with black hair and long eyelashes, making dresses for her, buying dolls, and then talking about boys…
Then there was my boy, who came ten years later and now it was balls of all varieties, soft ball, baseball, soccer, basket balls…then wrestling with the coaches constantly wanting him to play football and me having a fit not wanting him to… and the beat goes on.
Now those two are parents themselves holding down responsible jobs, my daughter in education with a daughter and son of her own and my son as a Doctor of Chiropractic with his own practice and three-year-old twin boys!
So where does that put me on the Ferris wheel?
Further down than I like to admit…
As Michael W. Smith penned…
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name
On Christ, the solid rock, I stand
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand
Harolene.com 