Brink Driving

“The Brink of Endurance”. A thin line between lucidness and insanity. Is it a good place to be? Do repeated expeditions whittle away at the integrity of the brink? Does the brink suffer from erosion? Can you loose sight of the brink and fall over its edge?

I am not aware of any scientific studies on “the brink of endurance”. Perhaps it represents a new frontier of discipline. Maybe science could shed a generous helping of understanding on “the brink of endurance” . It might even become the new “X Game” on ESPN. Who will be the first person to perform a “360” on “the brink of endurance” and live to tell about it?

“You have driven me to the brink of my endurance”. This is a reality my mother would proclaim from time to time. She might make this claim on a Thursday night after a day at work followed by her weekly trip to the grocery store. It was a claim that might follow a complex episode of “sibling rivalry” when the rivalry participants had long since lost their common sense and did not know when to leave well enough alone. The opportunity to “brink drive” could come at a variety of times and/or places.

“Brink Driving” at our house was never verbalized but was still a premeditated and deliberate activity, especially among the male siblings. We desired in some distorted way to “take my mother for a drive”... if you know what i mean...;-)

In our own way, we each tried elevating “brink driving” to an art form. We were actually pretty good at it. I certainly want to remain humble at this point but  in the words of one of my mentors, “I’m not conceited, I’m just convinced”.

There were a few times my siblings and I would stand in slack-jawed wonder when my mother would make her proclamation. We had no idea we were “at the brink”. On the rare occasion we found ourselves on a surprise “trip to the brink” it was NOT from being in unfamiliar surroundings. We were usually surprised because of our own unawareness. We had simply missed the clues that we were “brink driving”. Remember...getting somewhere is usually half the fun.

I recall “brink driving” at an early age. I remember on one of my first driving trips resulted in the cherished proclamation, “you have driven me to the brink of my endurance”. I responded by holding my hands out as if I was steering a car, making sloppy motor sounds with my mouth and running around the room.

I actually thought it was a “cool” response to an already “cool” accomplishment. Being a person who is slow on the uptake, it took me several trips to realize that mock driving WAS NOT AT ALL A COOL RESPONSE. ..at least not to the people that ultimately validated coolness. That would be my mother and father. It took me too long to realize this was “uncool and foolish”. It took me so long to learn the “uncoolness” of the “mock driving response” it was ultimately banned from the “cool response lexicon”. FAIL.

I know in my young and feeble mind I felt as if I had accomplished a significant feet. I had made this accomplishment without the assistance of my siblings. It was as if my mother’s infamous proclamation held a strong affirmation for me. Her pronouncement was for me synonymous with “you’ve done a great job”...”I’m proud of you”.

Fast forward forty years. “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things”. (I Corinthians 13:11) Although there are still childish things to be put away, I am grateful for lessons of patience and endurance set in my heritage. My parents were “edgy” and they obviously knew how to navigate there.

Mystery of the Deep

Mystery and depth are descriptive words. They leave me with a strong sense of no boundaries; of not knowing the parameters or edges. They are words that can create a strong sense of feeling lost. These are words the human heart associates with cold and scary. However, like with most words their context is crucial.

On this “Good Friday” I received an email from my sister. It contained information on relevant family business. However, in conclusion she shared the following statement.

May you be blessed with a sense of the mystery and depth of God's love for us during this Easter weekend

The words “mystery” and “deep” stirred me with thoughts and wonder about the Holy Week we as Christians observe.

I remember as a child trying to grasp the word "unfathomable". When I learned the definition of "fathom" I visualized ancient sailors "fathoming" the waters they sailed. I could imagine their attempts to discover the depths of the waters. Perhaps they used ropes. It could have been some other clever measuring device. The goal was the same. They wanted to “find the bottom”.

I can only imagine the variety of the emotions and feelings of a crew that was traversing waters of “unfathomable” depth, when they could not “fathom” the waters on which they sailed. Certainly their imagination explored the mystery of what might be below their keel.

Modern sailing is ripe with technology. It is within the capacity of the modern sailor to know the depth below the keel. Underwater exploration has enlightened mankind to many mysteries of the deep. Yes, there are mysteries that remain, but modern technology has helped bring “edges” to things that were once thought to be “edgeless”.

Not so with the love of God brought to us through His Son Jesus Christ. Not so with the power of the  Resurrection. The love of God brought to us through His Son Jesus Christ is DEEP and is a MYSTERY, but there is no cold or scary here. In this context cold and scary words become words filled with hope and warmth.  So while we cannot find the “edges” of this deep mystery, may we forever dwell in its powerful journey, the journey that calls us to service in the redemption of Jesus Christ.

It's About Time...

Life moves in a straight line. Ever moving forward at a relentless pace. Despite our strongest desires to slow it down or to “hit the pause button” it still progresses.

Life moves in a circle. There are abundant testimonies of life “coming back around”. When life makes its circle the familiarity greets us like an old friend. We even sometimes respond to it as if it were always present.

This casual and broad observation of life holds a vivid dichotomy. It might even be considered a paradox. Life moves forward in a line and at the same time comes back to us  in a full circle. This brings two songs to mind.

In their 1977 hit “Fly Like an Eagle” the Steve Miller Band recorded a motif in the song that almost morphs into a mantra:
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin', into the future.
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin', into the future.

In the movie “The Lion King” the song “Circle of Life” offers another perspective of life and time:
It's the Circle of Life
And it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle
The Circle of Life

Any songs come to mind for you?

Why thoughts on life and time? Because it is a common thread of our human existence. Absence of other things can be claimed. However, we each live and live in time. The quality of life and time might be debated but its presence is certain.

This is  common ground for us to establish with each other. With common ground established I compose a charge. May we be compelled to surrender to our Creator, the maker of life and time, the valuable resources of our life and time. Then, as “time keeps on slippin’ into the future” we will be lead in His Lordship on “the path unwinding”

So It Begins...

...for me and blogging anyway. This is my first. There are no plans to publish. It is not anticipated that this blog will be a driving force in the great debates of society and culture. There is no real agenda other than to explore the option of writing thoughts, perspectives and feelings and see what it might hold.

A recent Saturday was a work day at my parents house. My brother-in-law emerged from an arduous journey into one of the finer "crawl spaces" of my father's workshop. He was holding a ton of childhood memories contained in three lunch boxes. I'm certain he was not aware of his own strength. He was simply unaware of the massive weight of the memories he carried in those three lunch boxes.

My siblings and I are in the process of dismantling a wealth of heritage found in the "nooks and crannies" of my parents house. Although it is not our childhood home, it represents a lengthy tenure of our family history. My parents never lived any place longer than the house where the lunch boxes hid.

My father passed away in the days following Christmas, December 30, 2010 to be precise. This followed months of an emotional journey with his health. They were months filled with health care decisions and strategies to keep intact his self-esteem and dignity. He deserved as much.

My mother's death had come a couple of year's earlier. Her course was a protracted journey into the hidden world of dementia. The early days of her journey saw my father working feverishly to preserve her self-esteem and dignity. Then, after only a short time of obligatory resistance, my father ushered my siblings and me into their world, the world that until then was kept respectfully private.

It was time for my siblings and me to enter their world. My father was in need of the emotional support of the the exhausting journey of the care giver. I witnessed the truest living model  of the vows "in sickness and in health".

So...my blogging life begins with this brief narrative. I want it to establish a perspective for those who might read this and for myself. The death of both parents has caused me to become an "adult orphan". I use the term deliberately. It represents for me a milestone. . . a transition. . . a turning point. . . a weigh point. . . an anchor point. . .  a. . . well I guess I could try to use every thinkable euphemism to say that. . . I see endings. . . I also see beginnings.

So it begins. . .