Feeling Like a Wreck

Have you ever felt like a wreck? 

School starts tomorrow. So often during the school year, I feel like a wreck. It’s a feeling I dread, even now.

The back roads between Silverton and Ouray are some of the most hair raising and majestic jeep roads in Colorado—roads built for strong men who subdued the mountains for their treasures and where often the mountain subdued the men—history spewed over them in decay.

When we started to gain height over the first trail, Helen questioned, “Is this safe?!” Jay assured her it was and then pointed out a wrecked car far down the side of the mountain.

Helen, not having experienced years of traveling with him, wasn’t convinced. When I turned to check on her, she twisted a strain of her hair, put it in her mouth, and closed her eyes—tight.

But, trusting the driver, my eyes penetrated the gorge and lifted then to the heights above. These Rocky Mountains are so big—sentinels to their Creator—formidable against a blue sky. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they’d go on forever and ever.

Are they dangerous? They can be—life often is.

Are they beautiful? Absolutely—on a bright summer’s day, but these roads are closed during winter.

During winter, as I go about my busyness, I don’t want to feel like a wreck. Instead, I desire exhilaration. Maybe I can find it by trusting the Driver and the beauty He has created—if I look for it.

By day’s end, Helen was pointing out fields of mountain flowers and shouting, “I like the bumpy roads best!”

Helen is learning to trust. 

I hope that when life gets bumpy, I can focus on the beauty—that I can trust the sovereign Lord of all the world, including my own.