The emergency brake of the church van we borrowed was wedged stuck. Rip, crack! Let’s roll, and not use the brake from here on out.
“Punch it, Maggie!” My friend on the bench seat with the walking stick kept drilling me. No matter how many times she said it though, no one could recall what movie spawned that line. I hoped it wasn’t Thelma & Louise, because we all know that one didn’t turn out so well.
Two hours of chatter spilled us onto the sun-baked Cambria shore.
We brought no bibles, but we played.
We chuckled and giggled and gave our stomachs a good work out at the restaurant grill where we stuffed ourselves with baskets of french fries dipped in ranch and ketchup.
After an all too brief trip through a three-story antique store with the remarkable smell of old paint mixed with mashed potatoes, we quickly determined who among us were geologists, Disney collectors, book lovers, fashionistas, or kids-at-heart.
Some of us grabbed caffeine and chocolate from the corner store before hitting the boardwalk to say good-bye to the surf and sun, but the fat ground squirrels there made us suspicious of their intent as they came too close for comfort to our sandaled toes. Screams. Giggles. Get in the van!
God was good to us with unforced rhythms of grace. In each other’s company, we walked as free and as light as He allowed for the day given. I’m grateful for all the ladies in my life, who collectively carry each other’s burdens and live in the light of God’s mercy. (Matthew 11:28-30)
Walk with me and work with me. Keep company with me, says God.
It isn’t religion, it’s relationship. We plough and pull together.
She’ll say, “Punch it, Maggie!” and I’ll unload her walker after I find a parking spot.
(I hope you’ll find your rhythm of summer is a soothing one. Cheers!)