How can a day change the lives of so many? Or Vertigo, party of one?
The early morning is by far my favorite time of day, everything is waking up, stretching and yawning as the sun starts its daily pilgrimage across our late winters sky. This was just another normal Sunday morning, the cool temperatures of our bedroom calling to me as the sky was still and quiet, even Drax was calm last night. I woke at my normal time, it’s Sunday, 4:15 am. The stars seem to be just a few inches outside my window, so close I could smell the spinning colors of the night sky. Wizz… zipppp… buzzzz….. Ohh goodness, I’m going to PUKE!!!! That was how my morning started yesterday, spinning colors of stars and moon, twirling like a demented ballerina twisting on her brain piercing toes and portraying the most horrific sequence of blurring, twirling, spinning visuals, the most detestable sights imagined.
Yes, I lay in bed wishing the world were not tormenting my every thought and making my every move a sequence of gut-wrenching experiences and vivid examples of torture. It’s Sunday, I blog on Sunday mornings, but this morning was having none of that. Instead, I lay in bed… counting the time…. 4:20…4:30… 4:45… 5:15, it is now time to wake up Jess. “Hunny?” I called from the pillow “Jess? I can’t get out of bed, it’s time for you to get up” with her deepest concern as she tried to wake up. “Are you ok” all I can muster is one more word “vertigo”. My day was pretty rough, but we did make it to church and back home.
I had planned to blog about the days that led to Jess and I making the final decision to move away from everything we knew and land on this little 40 we now call home, but today I was not able to do much more than not fall over.
I remember the day very clearly, we were having a normal day, or so we thought. Al was outside doing what he does best, looking for stuff. We had seen a few frustrating situations in the past but today we discovered we could not keep Al safe, safe from himself. As Jess watched today unfold like a nightmare, I stood by trying to understand the un-understandable situation, she started to get weak in the knees and I tried to hold her up, and Al was thinking this was a most excellent adventure, it was so fun for him.
Let me set the scene: We lived about 800 feet from a busy commuter highway in Chanhassen, this highway carried thousands of commuters to the cities and back every day, but the buffer of elevation and trees made our home almost invisible and certainly not effectively bothered by the busy road. It was a perfect balance of convenience and sheltered quiet from the road. Next to us was an old gravel pit that seemed more like a miniature forest, a place where Al could explore and look and find all sorts of things like melted plastic mower housings, melted aluminum window frames, piles of wood, trees and rocks scattered around the winding path that lay just below the abandoned railway, but now was actually an abandoned bike trail. It was surprisingly quiet, and solitude was never begging but rather it was easily found with a comfortable spot in the backyard.
This particular day, Al had the great adventure planned out and was implementing this marvel of fantastical fantasy. As he snuck into Jacob’s room and poked around in Jacobs’ surprisingly well-organized trunk, Al found exactly what he needed. He quickly snatched it up, tucked it into his clothing and slipped unsuspectedly out the door and down to the highway where he would make his great mission a completed quest for this adventure of great delusion. After he was done, or perhaps because he had a sense that he should stop, he slipped back into Jacob’s room and returned this great prop that was so well suited to his wondrous fantasy, now being complete in this quest, Al was back outside, and we would never know what he had been up to… or so he thought.
A few minutes later, this fantasy played out to Jess and me, she was almost ready to collapse. You see, this item that Al took was a plastic airsoft pistol (not supper real looking) and the way we found out was a swarm of 9 police cars screaming up the driveway and chasing Al down and cuffing him. All the time, Al thought he was the “Head of the Bloods and the Crips.” (Rival gangs in Las Angeles Ca.) For some unknown reason, Al thought that he was the leader of these two rival gangs. The Cops were chasing him down because he was waving a gun around at cars on the highway during rush hour.
I remember the look on Als face as he sat in the back of the car, admitting to this and so much more, like his gang colors (a sweatshirt covered in marker) his bandana that was part of his “attire of ganging stuff” and his communication with this gangs by means of microscopic messages written on tree bark by the highway.
I remember holding Jess that night and I remember these words… “I can’t keep him safe here!”
We bought a 13-foot fiber-glass camper and started driving, looking for a new home, a safe home, a quiet 40 where Al could finally be away from the people’s stares, the hustle of the cities and be safe when life gets out of control and starts to control what we think. I had bought that little house in Chanhassen to live out my days as a bachelor, as a grumpy old man working on my motorcycle in my living room and sleeping whenever I pleased, but now, I am a stepdad and moving into the middle of nowhere to keep our Al safe, with no regrets, we moved.
I am pretty sure there is at least one gray hair with Als name on it, somewhere up there, as few as there are nowadays. My hope is to offer someone encouragement that God is in control, and If you dont feel like therre is his presence in your life, ask him today for his comfort.
May God’s love for you guide your footsteps and fill your heart as much as mine is filled tonight as I sit and finally scribble out this post.