Here’s my go at it.

I was leaning by the wayside
A capitol disgrace
Wheels of rusted spokes
A heap of metal waste
I used to weave a legend
Through a ten-speed world of fame
Commute through miles of traffic
Wait through wind, snow and rain
But then one day it happened
My rider never returned
Chained to time’s revolving
I’m a history never learned

I want chrome for my heart, chrome for my skin
Chrome becomes a part of me like God inside of men
I want chrome

Underneath abandon
Is a strong and hearty soul
I’ve been to far off places
But did not forget my home
Except for long lost beauty
And weary, flattened tires
Time has overtaken
What chrome once made me shine

I want chrome for my heart, chrome for my skin
Chrome becomes a part of me like God inside of men
I want chrome for tomorrow, chrome for today
Chrome that rust can’t prey upon and will not fade away
I want chrome

I wish you could have seen me when I was in my prime
On Monday rush to meetings, by Sunday take my time
But the worth that makes the wait
Is the hope that’s not in vain.

I want chrome for my heart, chrome for my skin
Chrome becomes a part of me like God inside of men
I want chrome for tomorrow, chrome for today
Chrome that rust can’t prey upon and will not fade away
I want chrome

It started with the steel,
When we put it to the steam.
We left the old man in the dark,
Mumbling, fumbling for his things.

When the young men came in running,
with ideas in their hands,
I raced to reach potential;
Left no time to understand.

Life: The Liberator
promised respite from the work.
Life: The Entertainer,
made me laugh until it hurt.
And life: the living, breathing,
spent her moments in the dirt.
Slow and pure in the labor,
she returned me to the earth.

It happened with the steel,
though I put it to the steam.
Still I wound up in the dark.
Still I wished for better things.

If you’d like to catch a glimpse of life on the trail (and my amazing beard) watch this. . .

(sorry I can’t get the video to embed here, i’ll keep trying.)

Story has gotten to be something of a fashionable topic over the past couple years.  At least in the circles I navigate.  And I think it makes sense.  We spend so much of our lives learning stories.  We love to hear good stories.  And not just novels, movies or songs.  We read news stories to learn about the events that occur around us on a daily basis.  I know that I for one am always interested a new story if I think it is going to be good.  And what I mean by ‘going to be good’ is that it is going to shed some light on my own story.  But I never really think of my life as a story.  Everyone else’s lives are the stories.  The tales with meaning and purpose and hope.  On a daily basis mine is just my drudgery and details I am struggling to manage.  And while I spend most of my time absorbed in it, I seldom think of it as something with the potential to relate the truths of beauty and hope, or unturning love.

It may boil down in simplicity to the details.  I know how I feel in the midst of all my best moments.  I know that I am still not yet fulfilled even in my best seasons, I know that personally and experientially.  But in hearing someone else’s story there is the possibility that the longing has finally been met in that person.  I see the beauty of their story without necessarily knowing the unanswered questions of their heart.

I had a conversation this morning with a friend that started me thinking on this topic.  And he said some things that excited me.  He talked about a recent retreat he went on in British Columbia.  He was invited along with other artists to a lodge on an island in the middle of nowhere B.C. I mean, literally 60 miles from anything, get there on a water taxi, surrounded by mountains and glacial lakes, middle of nowhere.  He said upon arriving after a full days worth of travel, their host was standing on the dock with his family jumping up and down pumping his fists with excitement that his guests had arrived.   And when they had finally pulled up to the dock and got out of the boat there were no formal introductions.  Their host was telling them to jump in and to get started, and within five minutes his guests had jumped into the water fully clothed, swimming and engaging with one another after traveling hours to arrive.  My friend slept that night on the dock beneath the sky, clear and filled to overflowing with stars.

I asked him what he took away from his time, and he came away realizing that his life is a story, too.  That it can be filled with magic and wonderful, unexpected moments of joy.  Tragic failures, disappointments and months of grind it out labor as well, but even in those seasons there is the potential for good things at any moment.

As a believers in Christ apparently we have access to the very throne of grace, and a Father who does not hesitate to lavish every good and perfect gift on his sons and daughters.  He promises to work even our failures into our good and, unconcerned with waste or want, he fills our cup to overflowing.  In those promises there is the potential for beauty and good  in any moment, whether celebration or hardship.  And I would like to know the Father of those promises so well that I do not balk at the unknowns that today brings, but enter in to them fully.  I would engage with the people I meet and share life with them.  In doing so, I believe that our tragedies and mysteries and celebrations will further reveal the love of Christ in our lives, and set us firmly in the greater story unfolding from the heart of God.

Thanks for coming by,
David