Yesterday for me felt like the beginning of a long flood of pensive consideration and faithful worship. When the Lord opened the skies to wash away the sins of the world, he didn't tell Noah what it would be like or how it would end, he just said build an Ark and hang on tight. And that's kind of the faithful question that was posed to me yesterday, complete with torrential rains.
As everyone likely knows, yesterday like today, is hot humid and wet. Yesterday rumors of impending tornadoes filled the morning news feed and today continued flooding is expected. But while some were bailing out basements and others were ducking for cover under an umbrella, I was coming down off of a high from the weekend.
Sufficed to say, it involved a girl, some glorious stolen moments and a boat load of moon light. But by sunset Sunday night my body was worn, my mind awash with thoughts and my soul saturated with feeling. I imagine it was a similar feeling to the that of the celestial motivated beasts who climb from the briny depths once a year to continue the cycle of life, laying themselves vulnerable to all the land-based threats a sea creature may face, and then find themselves back at sea having survived the journey. Satisfied, exhausted, perhaps even a little wistful.
My body, though not abraded by sand or set upon by predators, felt equally worn for the wear. A 24 hour marathon vigil followed by a 9 mile run showed me some of the things that every 38 year old man fears. I'm getting old, my strength is not what it once was, and I don't recover as well as I used to. That said, I did it just the same without a falter of step or a word of complaint.
And when it was done I felt a great sense of accomplishment and knew I had set upon a a new course that would follow this inaugural weekend of excitement and pleasure. And then the floods came.
The rains started as a gentle mist then turned into a more steady patter. A cross word or was it? A tiresome look or is it? I don't know this person yet, but my instincts tell me she is weary of me in someway. But then again how do I know that? Because I am weary too.
I don't feel any less of a draw to her, but I do feel the friction building as if a release of tension is imminent, but has yet to build into a lifetime of resentment yet. Its best I think to precipitate a release now and feel the full fury of the micro flood before it becomes a cataclysmic deluge that washes away all.
And so I felt a need to push, just hard enough to open the flood gates a little hoping against hope that the gates would not part and wash me down stream with the ensuing flood. Every woman has her own way of releasing her frustrations. Some let it trickle out a course word or phrase as a time. Others immediately call the heavens and let the flash flood flow only to pick of the pieces and prepare for the next deluge. But either way, the man has a possibility of being washed away with each little crack of the gate.
I could see that this gate had filled rather quickly and was not capable of holding such depths in its young tender state. Matured relationships can whether some of the most intense storms without so much as a broken twig. Young relationships because of their intensity and lack of calcification are unstable and can blow out in record time due to their tentative nature, resulting in a destruction of the valley and all its residents.
And so as the days rains built yesterday, I knew the gates were becoming weak and a flood was imminent. And then it began to rain harder. With a crack of thunder and flash of the light the steady drizzle increased to a pounding rain. The course tone of the words, turned into a pained throng of ideas. The frustrations took shape and the object of the offense was clarified. "YOU DO THIS.... AND I HATE IT"
That is the sign that the gates are about to fail and the town is about to be washed away.
One can only hope that you find a sturdy branch or a stiff boat to rise above the flood waters when it does go, but all the same it will go and you may go with it.
The choice was mine, pull the pin and let gates flow free under the weight of the heavy rains or attempt to hold them back and risk being caught in the tide when they broke loose of their own accord. I chose the former.
What resulted was a flood, not of biblical proportions, but such that it could wash the pavement off the roads and lift the occasional misplaced car. I felt the waters rise around my ankles and knew that if I pushed any harder the flood would swallow me whole. I grabbed on to the one branch sturdy enough to keep me afloat, my manhood. This too can often backfire, showing independence and unfeeling. If one stands too firmly against the flow the result can be a break. The tree that bends survives.
And when the heaviest of the torrential rains were falling and the gates had opened, the flood of built up frustrations flowed freely. I ran for cover beneath a cold beer and some quiet reflection. Others I saw washing past me and still more were trying to stand against the flood. My retreat may have saved me. The ensuing cleanup, however, may take some time.
I am unsure if the rains are still falling, but I do feel that the gates have been unburdened. The vessel I have chosen seems to be holding its own against the tide and the question remains, "when will the rains stop?" Noah had no idea when the Lord would let him land and nor do I. Did I survive this initial flood only to be washed away on the Sea as I wait to be invited ashore? Do I have the faith to stay out long enough to be welcomed back? Will my vessel survive the floating vigil? My 40 days have just begun, but I have no idea how long they will last. We shall see what is left of this world we have built when the sun shines again.
Comments
Post a Comment