If I could stand on a street corner and pass out free gifts, I know just what I'd like to give. If metaphors were ours for the asking, morphing into the reality they represent, then here's what I'd want my pen to purchase:
a seatbelt.
The girl who wrote In Defense of a Dangerous Childhood almost a year ago to the day, is now seeking a metaphorical seatbelt?
Yes. Yes, I am.
And here's why:
No matter how you're travelin', at some point along the journey, the trip is going to get bumpy. Treacherous. Uncertain. Mine has. Maybe yours has already, too. And as much as we may feel inclined to jump ship/car/train/rocket or whatever other mode you compare your vehicle to,
life is the journey with no exits until it's over. So while it's awesome may I encourage you to say wheee! Sit at the front of the coaster with the wind in your hair. Live and cherish and breathe and make the memories you're going to need later.
And when life is completely wrong and messed up and crumbly and confusing, may I encourage you to still sit in that front row? Feel the rain in your face, mixed up with the tears, and live and breathe and look for ways to be grateful and slow down and endure the ride.
So whether you are in a season to endure or enjoy, in either case, with a seatbelt fastened, you won't hit your head so hard that you completely lose your mind.
So what's a metaphorical seatbelt, anyway? How do we stay anchored in reality while we live the ride?
Ahh, my friends. I'm sure for different people it is different things. Mine is really one simple sentence.
Be still and know that I am God.
Spoken by God. Not me. I'm nothing. I'm a bit of star dust housing a soul that's hurtling through space and time awaiting the day I'm released from both.
But I'll wear this seatbelt. Cinch it back on every day if I have to. Because it's a beautiful, terrible ride.
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