Monday, May 7, 2012
I beat the rain on the way home to see my parents, sister, and related, uh, relatives.
Of course, as any authentic knows, if you're really trippin', it's going to rain sometime during just about every ride. You're gonna start or end in it or ride into it and yet always ride through it sooner or later. I'm reminded of the brother who asked during a downpour outside of Rapid City, South Dakota last August, "Do you think it's ever going to stop?" I replied, "Always has except, uh, once."
Jesus: "Rain falls on everybody."
LS: "Troubles will come and they will pass" (Simple Man).
I started back home on Friday at 5:00 a.m. (ET) and arrived at 7:00 p.m. (CT); grindin' and grinnin' out the 800 miles with stops for gas and putting on and taking off my rainsuit. I burned up that cheap rainsuit, lost my favorite gauntlets under a bridge near Toledo while waiting out a monsoon and forgetting I left 'em on the saddlebags while changing to my all-weathers, and even wore my helmet because the raindrops felt like ball-bearings while going...
I went home to Pennsylvania.
I returned home to Illinois.
Speaking of irony, I met my old scoutmaster while he was getting his hair cut by my sister. I don't get haircuts anymore if you know what I mean. But it did provide an opportunity to thank him for helping form the best in my life while I continue to take credit for the worst.
The pizza was great as always; and I had an opportunity to tell one waiter working on his Ph.D. to get done as quickly as possible so he can get on with real life if you know what I mean in a 1 Corinthians 1 kinda way.
I watched news reports about Goodell suspending "Saints" for bounties as if...
I read about Congress wanting to throw Clemens in the slammer for lying to them as if...
I threw up while watching BBPBHO and the Mormon talk about how to make America well as if...
I played nine with my dad - both of us playing quite well for his age and my ability - after he almost died twice in the last month as if...
I sold some books, signed 'em, and then listened to my mom complain about my poor penmanship as if...
I had so much fun and wanted to stay home in...
I couldn't wait to get back home in...
I'm not afraid of death.
I like to live.
I'm having a blast despite the irregulars, irascibles, and irreconcilables.
But, nah, I'm not afraid of death.
Haven't been since Jesus: "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he die, yet will he live; and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die."
That's why I don't get people who say they know Jesus who live in such fear of something aka death that can never happen to 'em in the end if you know what He means.
Aside from my Libertarian bent and rebellion against governments who want to be my nanny and control me like Miss Pratt in 1st grade, I ride fearlessly to freedom because I know when that time comes, to quote a hero, I will be truly free, uh, at last if you know what He means.
So here's the glorious irony.
I'm in no hurry to die because I really, really, really like to live.
I like being home with my family, friends, and...
I can't wait to see Jesus.
That's when I'll really, really, really be home if you know what He means.
The glorious irony of...
"This world is not your home, so don't make yourselves cozy in it."
1 Peter 2, The Message
Blessings and Love!