I’m starting to feel sick.

I’ve only started this post once or twice already, praying and hoping that some gamma ray of inspiration will zap my fingers into tap-tap-tapping their way across the screen of this iPhone.

I don’t normally write on my phone, but I’m on my way to town because the software I need for my computer is about to go off sale. And just to clarify, Southern Gal is driving, not me.

Because I have to write.

The Ritz cheese crackers and diet Mountain Dew in the center console are my muse.

I glance up at the road just in time to brace myself for a curve.

Seriously, I’m not feeling well.

This is the way the past week has been. Pell-mell full steam ahead, multi-tasking, running and sprinting toward…

What?

Taxes are due this week.

Our housing situation needs some contemplation. Do we buy or rent?

I need to register Southern Gal’s car, but the court house is closed by the time I get off work.

Tuesday is my day to write at bibledude.net. I really love this site; I’d hate to mess with the schedule.

This list of to-dos causes my mind to flip flop with questions. Which is a priority, which will take most time, which should I stress the most about… You get the picture.

The air in this car is too warm. Popping a Ritz cracker into my mouth, I forget to take the time to chew… and nearly choke.

“Would they write that on my obituary?” I wonder.

Duane Scott passed away one fateful evening due to his hectic lifestyle.

This weight of responsibility feels too much.

“Um God? You do realize I’m only a boy. What’s up with You pushing all this at me?”

No reply.

The gentle hum of tires on pavement is all I hear.

Silence.

“In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.” Isaiah 30:15

I stare straight ahead through the front window of the car, desperately watching the road as my mother taught me, in hopes my stomach will feel better.

But it doesn’t help.

I want to hang my head out the window. Forget all the problems. Get a fresh breath of air. I think miserably how tangible evidence of this car sickness will present itself if something doesn’t change.

So I roll down the window.

The wind rushes around my face, my hand swoops up and down. I want to stick my tongue out like a dog. Before reason and logic can restrain me, I stick it out, imagining it flopping around in the breeze. Southern Gal laughingly complains about her hair getting messy.

I really don’t care.

Rolling up the window, feeling increasingly better, I realize… Sometimes, God doesn’t give us answers because He knows we need to wait in silence for a moment.

However loud and fun that silence is, well… that’s up to us.

-Duane Scott

 

i’m gonna be sick

by Duane Scott time to read: 2 min
26
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