Lord, I know You love me. Sometimes though i put myself in situations where i am utterly helpless in my own strength and completely reliant on yours. I am thinking i might abuse your protection in certain ways but Lord, all i want is to know you more, to know this world and the people you’ve created more and thus, hitchhiking.
I’m extremely aware that my actions have effect on others, especially the other parts of the Body of Christ which i am part of, though they weren’t directly involve in the action scenes. They are the people working behind the scenes, communicating, negotiating with me, prepping me, making pledges to God, the Big Boss, to make sure when I, the hobbit, pass through the mountain of Moria, I’m safe from the trolls.
Sometimes i think Frodo looks down at his furry rubbery hobbit feet, look at himself at a riverbank in the Shire, barely 3 feet from the ground, what resources do I have? Why am i chosen? I ask myself the same questions, why of all people considering background and personality, I’m irrevocably attracted to the unconventional way? What am i equipped with? The story of moths insistently drawn to the fire and eventually die at the expense of the pursuit of estranged beauty, sometimes reflect upon my actions. Still i try to get closest to the fire not getting burned.
While many are bewildered when heroes of movies take on a perilous journey and a round of uttered nonplus like “Why don’t he just hide, run, take a helicopter?”, I guess i understand: It’s a quest. I could have taken the train, rent a car, take a flight, hop into a chopper but it’ll never offer the experience of waving a thumb on the sidewalk near the entrances of motor-ways or gas stations. I see the way people telling me “no” with their body languages; I see, sometimes, they’re as helpless as i am; I see them mouth the city’s name on my cardboard and a glint of pity in their eyes; I see them mouth “désolé” and press their palms at their chests, heads bow in sympathy; I jump when they wind down their windows and exchange words with me; I see taxi drivers, policemen’s, firemen’s cars and i swiftly fold my cardboard and smile politely.
I’m not sure whether i’m allowed to even blog about parts of my adventure this time so i kept people involved anonymous and things involved analogical. A cardboard tucked under my arms with 2 cities’ names- one German, another French. I got out at the last station of the tram line. Today everything has a façade of composed calmness about it, the humid air, birds chirping, an old lady pushing a cart into a butchery. I walk against the intruding wind, convinced and confident about my path, the words of a fellow hitchhiker floating in my head “Follow your instincts no matter what.” As I unfold my cardboard at the entrance of A6, I pick a spot, next to a human cardboard advertisement, flashing his million volts smile – “Competition”, I thought. I am just warming up though my thumb is getting colder at every flicking of the red traffic lights. I’m in no rush, I’m enjoying my spot and eye-contact with people. What i do not notice is the tiny car pulled up at the gas station next to me. My heart leaps as the driver requested to converse in English. Click! He becomes my first transporter. (Note: I do not think it’s appropriate to describe him as it’ll put both him and me in risk of confidential breach so i’ll refrain myself from doing so here.) When my transporter shares his traveling experiences and mentions countries that i’m yearning to go, i’m engrossed. At some point, we realised the road was blocked and we got disoriented without the aid of navigator, he hit back and whisked me into a highly guarded fenced area of foreign soil.
It’s one of the most fascinating places i’ve ever witnessed, like the movie “The Village” engulfed me in reality. Though the perky imprudent part of me is screaming in excitement and disbelief inside me; my outer shell, having the irreconcilable rigidity of glass remained aloof, i acted as if i belonged there.
The aftertaste of foreign fizzy drinks lingers in my mouth, sandwiched between crumbs of homey treats, i plummet through thousands of kilometers and back again. Circumstance eventually screeches the back of my neck and my instincts tell me to ditch. Things that my transporter says form a rope, tying me to a chair and I have to struggle out by my own strength. At this moment, I could only pray for creativity and wisdom. Distractions work well in my situation and I blurted words that God puts in my mouth as a weapon against the strangling rope. It disentangles around me and falls snugly to the ground.
