The Pause at the Top of the Roller Coaster

I don't much like roller coasters. Actually I don't like them at all. But having two kids, I've ridden a few. My compromise is that I won't do anything that turns me upside down, and I want a seat under me (no dangling in thin air). There's a moment when you reach the top of the first hill...you've been pulled along by a chain, and in just a second, gravity is going to do for (and to) you what it did to Isaac Newton's apple. That's the pause. You know what's coming, but it hasn't started yet.

We're at that moment. Saturday morning, Rhonda graduates from college. All the hard work, studying, test-taking, and preparation culminates in a very short walk across a stage. They call it commencement for a reason. Graduation is a beginning, not an ending. But what she's got coming is not what any 20 year old should have to face.

We're trusting God for her complete and perfect healing. But we know that the road ahead is tough. So we're waiting for the rush...and the screaming...and the lurching...and the wishing it was all over. And I know we're all going to get off at the end (maybe stagger a little) and go into the future.