Ready for the rides

Magnitude doesn't always change when you get older.

When you're a little kid, things tend to seem a lot bigger than they actually are. Grownups look like giants; the length of the soccer field seems miles long; doors are heavier when you try to open them; Capri Sun pouches last longer; the passenger seat in your mom's car holds special powers; malls are giant danger zones where you can get lost from your parents; and jumping off from the high diving board at the public pool is the equivalent of voluntarily descending from the Empire State Building.

Many of these perceptions change as we get older, though there are certain things that still maintain mountainous statuses when they undesirably enter into our lives.

Like the anxiety of the unknown.

I remember when I was a little girl and the Black Hole first made its appearance at Wet 'n Wild (back before it was renamed Hurricane Harbor). It was a two-person ride, and—according to the park rules—my siblings and I were too small to ride it together, so my dad usually rode with us individually. (I think my mom did every so often, too, but she's not a big fan of those rides. She preferred the wave pool and the "blue tube" slides.) One thing about the Black Hole is that it is quite fittingly named—it's very dark in there almost the entire time. It's pretty exciting when there are lights, because it looks like you are about to run into them, but you drop right before you think your face is about to smash into something you can barely see.

The Black Hole

It's awesome.

I've never been fearful of rides at theme parks or water parks, and I really enjoyed the excitement of the Black Hole, but I think one thing that made me so confident is that I knew my dad was right there with me, weighing the float down so that we wouldn't flip (apparently that's the hesitation in letting two small children ride together). My dad would be with me for the entire ride, so any unexpected drops and turns were nothing to worry about—we were in this together, and I knew we would make it to see the sunlight with no harm done.

And I always asked if we could go again.

Sometimes life is like the Black Hole: there are so many things that come your way that you don't anticipate, and you find yourself holding on for dear life to whatever handles you can find. The surprises you encounter seem even more magnified than they would if you were a little kid again—and this time they feel all too real, because you're supposedly expected to know how to handle them as an adult.

I have a lot of uncertainties dancing all around me, and some of them give me slight anxiety. I'm moving from Canada (as I lovingly like to call it) at the end of July, and I don't know where I'm going to live until the end of October—and, even then, the actual physical place is still a mystery right now. I'm not too worried about it, but that might also be because I have been trying to avoid even thinking about anything involving the future lately.

But, the good news is that I know don't have to worry about flipping over—I have a Father who will be with me until the end, weighing that raft down and overpowering the darkness that encompasses all that surrounds me. God does that for His children, because we're too small to take on all of this madness by ourselves. It's comforting, actually, so much so that you don't have to fear any wild rides that you start.

And you might even find yourself asking if you can go again, because you know you'll never have to go alone.