Rolling, rolling, rolling...
It's been awhile, and when there is a lull, you think, "Maybe I'll never see Jesus in America again." But then, there he was yesterday afternoon, skateboarding down the center of a tree-shaded street. What are the chances I'd find myself walking down that particular street at that particular time of the day? My brain isn't good at calculating that kind of probability, but I think the odds are actually quite long.
I usually don't go that way. I was on my way to meet a friend who I rarely see any more. It was a rare jaunt to a part of town I rarely go. And there he was, a flash, a vision of pure motion.
Jesus in America is a damn fine skateboarder. And I'd say he's quite bold too. He hogged the whole damn street, smack dab in the middle, traffic be damned. He propelled himself with abandon. Top velocity. Pretty impressive.
Made me think of that Bob Dylan song: "If dogs run free, why not we, across the swooping plain..."
We are just like dogs, running and rolling dogs. Don't know where we're going, don't know where we been. Looking for trouble. Jesus in America!