Sunny Side Up Oct.19, 2005 �2005, Kathleen Gibson Keep your good dreams While driving the Fraser Canyon recently, we played tag with a biker. The guy kept passing us, falling behind, then passing us again. On one of his drive-pasts, he sidled alarmingly close, bent his head way over, and deliberately peered in. I caught a glimpse of a huge smile, a lot of black leather - and a white goatee. "Hey, that guy's OLD!" I said, waving. He sped ahead, playfully weaving from side to side like an enthusiastic youngster, the open road his playground. A few miles down the highway we caught him again. Stopped by the side of the road, standing near his bike, soft drink in hand. He held it like he was toasting the day, the breeze, freedom - everything good in life. He'd removed his helmet, unzipped his jacket and stood, feet planted wide, leaning back into the wind, a picture of pure joy. When he saw us, he lifted his free hand and waved, a full body wave, arm completely extended. His smile stretched almost as big. Longish white hair lifted slightly in the breeze. He looked just like Colonel Saunders on the KFC boxes. Seven decades behind him at least, but for this day young and carefree enough to go and do wherever, whatever, and whenever. Observing that man reminded me of something. "I've always wished I could ride a motorbike," I mused. The Preacher grinned. "We could drop you off, and you could ride with him for a few miles." I should have dropped him off. He's dreamed of owning a similar vehicle, a motor scooter, ever since I've known him. If I ever write a best-seller, I'll buy him one - a gift for my most loyal reader. Dreams are stubborn things, in general. They flit like moths through our growing up years, chase us hard during our adolescence and young adulthood. Some make a quiet exit, but others find a place to anchor in our souls, flapping their wings every so often to remind us that they're still waiting. Some even sidle up and peer in our windows, grinning. How many times you've caught yourself saying�. "I've always wanted to��"? That's a dream. Maybe one among many. This week I read about an older man who'd always wanted a little red truck, but never could justify its purchase. He didn't need a truck. He had nothing to haul. It would be a selfish thing, surely. One day he saw a little battered truck for sale. Red. He paid the owner four hundred bucks, and his dream now parks in his very own driveway. Surprise, surprise - he's found all sorts of things to haul, for himself and others. Be careful with dreams. God plants some; so does his enemy. Knowing God's ways and Word will help you figure out which to keep and which to chuck. That's important, because a good dream come true - even when you're old - will sweeten your life. The other kind sours everything faster than pickles in brine. Reply Home |
 |