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Monday
Sep292008
Hot feet
September 29, 2008
There seems to be a closed door somewhere in my mind, lately. On the other side is clear thinking.
On my side is a lot of wire, some bits of old fabric, a few nails, a pineapple that I forgot to eat before it went bad, and a rhinoceros. And a post it note that says, "In case you were wondering, the water didn't come tonight."
I think it's just that there are so many small holes in the road for me to leap over. They take up all my mindspace and keep me on this side of the door. We need to move. But when? And how? And is Jaya coming? Is she not? What about the dog that we are watching?
I need to go to the market tomorrow. But I need to learn to drive our van, first. I've never driven a car here, on the left hand side of the road, with the stick shift in my left hand. To tell the truth, I'm a little afraid.
But then I'm afraid of a lot of things. And I've kind of learned that the only way to deal with it is to leap in head first, letting all of you get wet until your feet slip in last, and you are swimming. So tomorrow morning, Chinua and I will go out and drive in circles in the jungle, and I hope I don't ruin another clutch, like I did when I learned to drive stick shift with my dear father.
And here's another thing. When the children of Israel wandered in the desert before they entered the promised land, they were afraid all the time. And years went by, and they forgot that there had always been water in dry places for them. Even water from a rock. Food out of the sky. Their sandals never wore out. In forty years, their sandals never wore out.
Fear is in forgetfulness, often. I forget about my life and every jewel, every small cup of water, and I am afraid for the future. But trust doesn't come from looking forward. It comes from remembering, from storing, from searching among pieces of fabric and a few nails and a lot of wire for the things that have always held us up.
On my side is a lot of wire, some bits of old fabric, a few nails, a pineapple that I forgot to eat before it went bad, and a rhinoceros. And a post it note that says, "In case you were wondering, the water didn't come tonight."
I think it's just that there are so many small holes in the road for me to leap over. They take up all my mindspace and keep me on this side of the door. We need to move. But when? And how? And is Jaya coming? Is she not? What about the dog that we are watching?
I need to go to the market tomorrow. But I need to learn to drive our van, first. I've never driven a car here, on the left hand side of the road, with the stick shift in my left hand. To tell the truth, I'm a little afraid.
But then I'm afraid of a lot of things. And I've kind of learned that the only way to deal with it is to leap in head first, letting all of you get wet until your feet slip in last, and you are swimming. So tomorrow morning, Chinua and I will go out and drive in circles in the jungle, and I hope I don't ruin another clutch, like I did when I learned to drive stick shift with my dear father.
And here's another thing. When the children of Israel wandered in the desert before they entered the promised land, they were afraid all the time. And years went by, and they forgot that there had always been water in dry places for them. Even water from a rock. Food out of the sky. Their sandals never wore out. In forty years, their sandals never wore out.
Fear is in forgetfulness, often. I forget about my life and every jewel, every small cup of water, and I am afraid for the future. But trust doesn't come from looking forward. It comes from remembering, from storing, from searching among pieces of fabric and a few nails and a lot of wire for the things that have always held us up.
Reader Comments (12)
Those are some really relevant words of wisdom for me right now.
Driving on the left isn't so bad. I'm left-handed though, so having the stick on the left side instead of right felt somewhat more natural, even though my brain kept saying it's wrong. But turning can mess with your head. Especially making right turns, it's so weird.
Hello Journey Mama,
I've commented here before and love your words and pictures.I just wanted to let you know I recently posted one of your husband's pictures and I wanted to know if you minded or if you would rather I removed it. Hope your lovely family is well.
Linda
I forgot to give you the link in case you wanted to check it.
www.beinggreen5.blogspot.com
You are deeper on your "off" days than I have ever been. I love to read your insight.
praying for you, mama.
Rae, we are halfway across the world from each other but you write what I feel. Here's a sermon I delivered a few weeks ago . . . it speaks to the fear: http://www.calvarydc.com/Sermons/080914.html
Thanks for your reflections.
Amy
I cannot imagine myself ever getting used to driving on the opposite side of the road, let alone handle the stick shift on the opposite side in conjunction with the lane shift!!
And if I was topping a hill or in a blind curve, in my being I'd be imagining a vehicle coming toward me and colliding with me because I'd "feel" I was on the wrong side, even though my head would know differently.
And how does one quit doing what becomes instinctive--like driving on one side versus the other--after many years of doing so? I have to think that if I let down my guard for a minute I'd get in the wrong lane when I was turning onto another road.
Amen!
You did really good today driving on those roads, I felt safe and that says a lot!
When I started reading your post, the objects on your side seemed intrusive, and ominous. I love the way that you changed things, McGiver-like, into useful even necessary gifts from a watchful and loving father.
Wow! Timely. Soothing. Empowering.
Thank you!
Keep up the good work.
What an amazing, relevant story. Thanks for sharing. Your ways of expressing your thoughts seem to echo my own at times.