Living on the Brink

Much has been made in recent days of “the Rapture” that was to come yesterday; most of it in the form of jokes from those of us who hold ourselves to a higher, more rational standard. It’s easy to poke fun at those we perceive as the misguided, the misled, the uninformed, the fanatical, and I’ve done my share of it. Tonight, though, I’m having second thoughts. Are those who so fervently believed in Harold Camping’s predictions THAT different from the “edge” we all live on? I’m not so sure.

Truth is, at any moment–on the freeway, in the bathroom, or from an unstable ladder against the house–we could take our final fall. A switch inside our brain defaults to “no” instead of “yes.” An artery malfunctions. Who knows? All the things that could go wrong in our lives are beyond counting. What is more, some of us push the edges of life’s envelope on purpose. We climb Mt. Everest, sail an ocean alone, work fourteen hour days for years on end to be successful, train for and run grueling marathons, or jump out of airplanes for the thrill of it. When I was a teenager I once drove a Corvette that wasn’t mine at 150 miles an hour over a small rise in South Dakota to see if I could clear all four wheels. Fortunately, the cop was sympathetic.

So, we all live on the brink, don’t we? What comes after might be salvation; it might be oblivion. Who’s to know? Meanwhile, we all take our calculated risks, do the best we know how, and trust that our God is a forgiving one. No matter how you slice it, “rapture” is just another word for “dice.”

I can’t blame Harold Camping’s true believers for trying to hedge their bets. If I were one of them, I would too. Only difference is, I’m not. It doesn’t make me right.

Storms

DELLE STATION, Utah–Whatever happened to good ol’ Ray? Did he fall through a crack in the universe? Finally skewered by that ram he’s always complaining about? On the lamb from MSNBC or FOX News? Dodging the IRS maybe, or being held for ransom by the Tea Party? Inquiring minds are demanding answers.

Fact is, I’m hold up here in Mormon country waiting for a storm to abate. According to the flashing digital signs on I-80 west of Salt Lake City, crosswinds from the south are being clocked at 45 mph with gusts to 60 mph. There are report of semis and RVs being blown off the road west of here on the Bonneville Salt Flats. I’ve never seen wind like this. At one point, I had to attend to an emergency with the trailer I’m towing (Gladys inside) and exited the car. I was lifted off the ground and slammed against the car. Wanna see the bruises?

I’ve always had a healthy respect for nature’s power, but until today I’ve never been in fear of her. Truth is, I can’t tell whether it’s fright for my personal safety or a high anxiety that I might lose a substantial financial investment in the circumstances. Gladys is priceless and the trailer I’m hauling her in with the new car I’ve just purchased come to no small sum.

So I’ve made my way here, the middle of nowhere: a rundown gas station selling cheap junk food and over-the-top gasoline to desperate travelers. I buy bottled water at nearly $3 a pint and a cold hot dog for about as much. What’s a body to do? You do what needs to be done. You buy the water, the hot dog, some chips, a package of beef jerky, and spend hours in your car waiting for the storm to abate.

Outside, near what you guess is sunset, visibility is zero.

I’ve always believed you should look forward more than you look back. But under conditions such as these, when you are in the middle of a storm, there is no future and no past, only the now. You do the best you can with what you know how to do. More often than not, when you buckle down to the job at hand, surprises come.

Here ends the lesson. 🙂