“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I rolled on to my back and held my thumb and index finger to my eyebrows. (Why is that comforting?) It was 12:30am and Trev was calling me from the road. From the side of the road, specifically.
“Yeah, it hasn’t been such a good night. I walked miles in the dark and I still can’t find them.”
The whole keyless entry, push-to-start thing is fantastic when you’ve got armfuls of groceries and a dog and you don’t want to go spelunking just to find your keyring. 99% of the time it’s the greatest invention. There is that one percent, though. And that was Thursday night.
At some point on his way home from a shoot in Yosemite, Trev stopped to get gas and placed the keys on top of the car. He forgot them – but didn’t need to remember I suppose, because the car started regardless. Jetting west on highway 4, the keys held on for a while. Until they didn’t.
When Trev realized and pulled over to find them, they had vanished. He was somewhere in the dark hills of Farmington with nothing but a headlamp and crows for friends.
I was an hour and fifteen minutes away looking for pants and the spare key.
“Irritated” is a nicer version of what I was feeling as I made my way south. But Trev stayed on the phone with me and the longer we talked, the more those violent feelings faded. He told me how well the shoot went – it was a beautiful wedding, the couple was great, and he had some awesome conversations with our friends there.
Suddenly I was rolling up and over those dark Farmington hills and there was nothing around me. No cars, no lights but mine. Just the sprawling country in midnight tones. And as Trev was going on about all these good things – these opportunities, awesome relationships – it felt like God suddenly dropped a line:
You have no idea what I’m up to right now.
The goosebumps happened and my haggard exhaustion dissipated. What an adventure. God doesn’t operate in boxes. That’s boring. There I was, in the middle of nowhere at 1:40am being reminded (again) that He’s doing stuff. Good stuff. Big stuff. Outside of the things I’m hoping for.
My tires crunched across the gravely shoulder as I pulled up behind Trev. He shut off the hazards and I got out of the wagon to trade cars. As we shuffled past each other exhausted, the stars flaunted their brilliance over the lightless road. Hello, Milky Way.
“It’s beautiful, though.” I stopped and let my head hang back before getting in the driver’s seat again.
“Yeah, it is.”
Speaking of Jesus doing stuff, I signed my first writing contract this week. What the heck, right? Yep. Can’t believe it. It came out of nowhere.
That’s His style though – and He keeps surprising me.
Cheers to another week of who-knows-what.