Thursday, 13 March 2014

I wonder if a bus will break down on us this year.

We travel along. Every day, we climb aboard. And we turn, we stop, we pick up, we stop, we drop off. We drive along and we turn.

Nearly two years ago that was me – us. That was us travelling each day on this crazy bus, that probably defied laws of mechanics in its ability to actually move. And yet we climbed aboard, and we screamed louder and louder: rapido! Rapido! RAPIDO!

Faster! Faster! Faster!

And oh the laughs that bounced around in that Holy place.

And the experiences it carried me through – to. Away from. The miles we covered together. Gelling.

Falling apart. Laughing: crying. Singing. Getting super mad.

And then one day it all just went KERPOOT. Because when a bus runs out of gas that’s what happens.

A year later. We’d already caused havoc. We had buses screeching to halts as we waved like crazy from the other side of the road. We’d hitched a ride on the steam train. We’d yelled out of the open tops. And then this day we were heavy laden.

This day, we were in it for the ride before the train home. We couldn’t be late for that.
So we are laughing. Reminiscing. Solidifying the most delightful memories. The scenery is flying by. And then BANG CRASH WALLOP. All is a standstill as parts go flying, smoke fills the space around and the bus will go along no more.

We have no choice but to pile off.

And now…NOW what about this year?

Oh the bus feels like it has blown a casket yet again and I haven’t climbed aboard even one.

Because that is how life goes. I thought it had gone wrong, when the emergency brakes were applied. And when the driver couldn’t see through the fog. And when every. Single. Person. Was HONKING like mad people.

All of this and I thought it had gone wrong – but no. No, it’s not until the bus stops and you have to climb right off that it really hits you.

And there is still hope. There always is. In Him. Only in Him. Fiercely, abundantly, beautifully in Him.