Neon Stubs
My husband is an avid motor sports enthusiast. For me it’s an acquired taste. Keith was five years old, his younger brother four when their father surprised them, and their mom (!) with mini bikes. Keith’s wheels became a second pair of legs and just as he did, his bikes got bigger and faster as the years went by.
An adrenaline rush is a real addiction and it appears we deal with this in our home. Sitting in a lawn chair watching others have all the fun has never been an option for Mr. Rooney. He must ride and discover three things: How fast will this go? What degree of control do I have at that speed? And, how many nonstandard places will it take me? Please note, none of these questions ever occur to me, I’m good not knowing. However, Christmas dinner has become an amusing reveal for our adult children to confess the secrets of speed they shared with their dad when they were little. They’re alive to tell this tale so all is well…….I suppose.
This thing I do not get, is well understood and accepted among many others, and so a natural course of life occurs. A competition is organized. Annual meetings and traditions begin and continue. Many weekends a year find us among uncommon friends sharing a common bond, motorsports.
Keith has only one complaint. The race director must begin work days, maybe even weeks ahead, to mark several miles of designated path through dense forest, across creeks, over rocks, along ledges and up hill and down. It’s a challenge to see both the big picture and the minuscule details needed to create an event of challenge, safety and recreation. One option tested was to mark hazards along the race route with neon paint. Tree roots, protruding rocks, stumps, and so on were sprayed. The solution became the hazard. Keith, not used to seeing safety orange in a habitat of nature’s greens and browns found the help to be a serious hindrance. Focusing on the gleaming marker, searching for what to avoid, processing a resolution and finally proceeding, all within in seconds of thought distracted him from his planned path. Somewhere in all this thinking his eyes remained on the distraction long enough it became a target and he hit several. He couldn’t take his eyes off the danger, and where his eyes were, his bike followed.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the Throne of God. Hebrews 12:2.
Our thoughts are our life. If we focus on who might not like us, we miss those who might love us. Continual worry about the “What ifs,” leads to a life of “Didn’t even try.” Keith’s focus, even briefly, led him to a place he was trying to avoid rather than the path he might have taken.
Fix your eyes on Jesus. Walk toward Him. You’ll see the cross and just beyond, the Throne of God. Fix your eyes on Him.
Have a great day! Vroom!
Gretchen
