Last week we went to the shore. There were seventeen of us and while the potential for conflict was there, altruism carried the day. Pairs of people stepped up to make meals, and to wash dishes afterwards. Every time Ben began to escalate a sibling swooped in to calm him down. We shared boogie boards, sun screen, humor, and computer skills. One
night we all indulged in improv, and found out just what spontaneity looks like. One daughter was a cab driver, and the passenger was being too friendly.
"Lady, I don't know you."
"Would you like to?"
Another night we competed in a trivia quizz, and leaped up with answers about favorite books, how many people have a brother named Micah, and a childhood toy horse with broken feet. Teams huddled to share information and read
the body language of contestants across the room.
We laughed over Weird Al's snarky
video which has already been viewed by more people than live in Switzerland, and by the time you read this may rival the population of Italy.
Along with linens, games, and shampoo we managed to bring three bikes, one of which was a double seater. It
took some getting used to, but was pretty fun once you gained momentum. As the back seat rider I had to relinquish the ability to see what was in front of me. Rather, I had to accept that the view in front of me was John's back. What was in front of him was an unknown. The panorama to both sides was perfectly peachy, consisting of sand dunes, ice cream shops, sea gulls and children splashing in the waves.
While my compulsion to know precisely what was in front of
the wheel was thwarted, I calmly slipped trust in its place. John was a good driver. He would take care of me. At times he would slow down for reasons I did not yet know, or speed up when I wasn't expecting it. I forced myself to believe he was dealing with obstacles that I couldn't and to redirect my gaze to the parade of tourists on either side. Sometimes John would ring the little bell, to alert someone inadvertently strolling in the bike lane. At first I thought the sound was random, but I
began to understand what it meant.
It felt like the path of my marriage. God can see what is ahead more clearly than I can. I take that back. Not just more clearly. He knows and I don't. Gradually I am coming to accept His navigation, and refocus on what's happening now.
Before John and I had our first child we explored the possibility of being foster parents. We actually met a potential boy
named Steve who had autism. Then when we realized I was pregnant we decided to put the foster care idea on hold. God could see far into our future, and what it would be like in twenty years when we realized Benjamin has autism. I have always held that memory tenderly, as if God was softening the blow.
It is not so bad, looking at the back of God. He is a good driver, and will take care of me. Besides, I am gaining momentum and recognize the sound of the bell.
"You cannot see My face; for no man shall see Me, and live." And
the Lord said, "Here is a place by Me, and you shall stand on the rock. So it shall be, while My glory passes by, that I will put you in the cleft of the rock, and will cover you with My hand while I pass by. Then I will take away My hand, and you shall see My back; but My face shall not be seen."Exodus 33
