My son Brad drives a Jeep Wrangler ... a black 1996 Jeep Wrangler Apex, to be exact. Brad loves his car ... loves, loves, loves it. When he was in high school, Brad decided he wanted to join the KC Jeep Club, a group of Jeep lovers who get together and go on off-road adventures together. And one Saturday all those years ago, my daughter Meghann and I went along on one of those day trips with Brad ... and amazingly, we all lived to tell about it. The off-roading took place near Manhattan, Kansas, a couple of hours from our house, and it was quite the adventure indeed. I got scared pretty quickly when Brad started to follow the leader of the group down a steep incline, and I spent the rest of the "ride" traveling with said leader in his Jeep rather than with my then inexperienced off-roading teenaged son.
Brad actually did very well negotiating all the boulders, steep hills and twists and turns, considering that it was his first time to tackle such enormous obstacles in his Wrangler. Until we approached the end of the trail ... the end of the trail that included driving through a huge puddle of water. It was really more like a small pond than a puddle, deep enough that Brad got about halfway through and got stuck. I'm not sure which was funnier that day ... watching Brad's Jeep sink in the water all the way up to the windows, or Meghann's shrieks as the water started coming in around her. Not to worry, everything turned out just fine ... some of the guys in the club calmly attached tow ropes to Brad's Jeep and pulled the car, Bradley and his freaked-out sister out of the water.
Though I hate to admit it, I've been fighting that all-too familiar sadness again for the last two or three weeks ... not wanting to leave my house, not wanting to eat, not wanting to interact with other people, not wanting to get out of bed, not wanting to do ... well ... anything really. All the signs that signal there's a deep pond ahead that I'll have to drive through in order to get back to the dry land and the trail that will lead me where I need to go. Here's the thing ... I don't want to drive through the puddle, nope, nope, nope I don't. The truth is that I'm tired of puddles ... I've had enough with the puddles, yep, yep, yep I have. But according to my doctors, that's one of the really crappy things about depression ... sometimes puddles just happen. Something changes in the brain, medications don't work as well, and puddles just happen. The trick is learning to recognize the rain that precedes the really, really, really deep puddles and asking for help before I find myself stuck in the mud with water pouring in all around me. Or, perhaps even harder than seeing the mist that will become a downpour ... trusting those who love and care about me and listening to them when they tell me they feel some raindrops.
Here's the thing about Brad's car getting stuck in the water that day ... he got stuck because he slowed down ... he got frightened by the water around him, and he hesitated ... he let his fear and nervousness cause him to pause just long enough for his Wrangler to get stuck in the mud. But ... but ... but ... even though he got stuck for a few minutes, Brad knew that he didn't have to stay there. He accepted the help that was offered to him, and it wasn't long until not only was his car free from the muck and mire, he and his sister were as well. That's what happens when you're a vehicle, you know ... you carry the people who are with you to safety. Yep, go ahead and think about that one for a while ... it's deep, really deep. Brad may have pressed the pause button on courage and bravery for a moment, but it didn't last forever. He was soon back on the trail and ready to tackle any obstacle that presented itself as he completed his grand adventure.
So, God ... You know I don't like puddles, and I don't want to be a vehicle. But since I have no control over either of those, I'm going to try my best not to press pause ... to keep my foot on the gas ... and to be thankful for the tow ropes and the people who tie them on my bumper when I can't.
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