The Ride
(To view recent Blog Posts, just page down)
Looking back at all those curves and surprises however, the vantage point is different. Looking back, I see the dark curves are outlined in a joyful light, not as black as it seemed at the time. Going through it at break-neck speed, holding on for dear life, I missed it. It’s only looking back do I see those halos of light.
What I hope is to be the last sharp unexpected curve in the darkness for a while, my brother’s death. I wrote my blog about him. It was balm for my own soul, while I prayed for his. But the most unexpected blessing occurred when more than a thousand people read the blog. They commented, wrote emails, left comments on the home-town facebook page, and on my own. I had wanted to tell someone, anyone out there, anyone riding that Fun House car-on-the-track with me about my brother. I hadn’t expected anyone to care, really. But they did. They told me about my brother and how he’d inspired them sometime in his 70 years of walking the streets in the small town. They shared their memories of their ride with Steve.
Quite a few wrote how they’d missed his blessing at the time. How easy it had been to not know his story. How they passed him every day without knowing his pain and suffering, without understanding the challenges he faced trying to do the most ordinary thing, and how much courage it took to walk downtown. And now, around that last dark curve, they see his blessing, and what he teaches them. They wrote how they will reach out to the people in their community while they still can, how they will try to carry some burden for others; how they want to be more aware of others’ needs; how they admire his courage in facing life.
This ride is slowing down and the dark doors are opening into the daylight. We’ll all blink and go on, but the look back has changed us forever. Steve’s needs inspired goodness in others. His suffering made us better people. It was his blessing. Thank you all for sharing that.