Eight Lanes to Cross

Now and again, I imagine this life in the context of an eight-lane highway. It’s busy, it’s fast, it’s riddled with potholes, faults, dips and bumps. And casualties. Lots and lots of casualties. I imagine myself, not as a driver, but as a pedestrian, standing on one side of this eight-lane highway and I’m trying to cut across the lanes to get to the other side. Eight lanes seems like a lot, but actually it’s not that wide a span to traverse.

And in this highway of a life, each and every one of us is trying our darndest to get across the whipping lanes to the other side with as few sufferings and losses as possible. But we all get nicked and bumped and bruised. Try as we may, sufferings and losses cannot - will not - be avoided. It’s like Frogger as we cross these crazy lanes to reach the other side.

I’ve begun thinking about this in recent months. I concocted this little metaphor for life, which you may not appreciate, but from my vantage point, feels strangely satisfying. Maybe it’s a northeast America thing. Or a Nancy thing. Likely both. 

My David moved through this maze of potholes and bumps and casualties quicker than most. That’s him. He made it through the whizzing traffic, honking horns and road rage (and yes, some fun car tunes and scenic backdrops mingled in), and I imagine him waving both arms in the air at me from the other side.

Somehow this helps me.

I’m real because God is so real. ~ Nancy