If we fail, we fail with glory

Just over a year ago my husband accepted a new job managing a hotel in the Western U.S. Moving our family across the country from Maryland to Idaho was exciting for us; our stay in Maryland hadn't been long but it had been long enough, and we were ready to return to our roots. The actual move, however, was not exciting. In fact I was terrified about driving across the United States in our mini-van with four young children while my husband drove the moving truck - in the month of December. I couldn't sleep at night agonizing over what would happen.

One day, in a phone call with my brother, Austin, I lamented to him my fears. "Not a problem," he replied. "I'll drive the truck. Only one condition: no kids allowed in the truck with me." My first sentiment was of elation. I wouldn't have to drive the van alone in a separate vehicle from my husband. My second response was to question him. (No questions about his condition 'cause I understood perfectly. It would be close quarters, he's single, semi-trollish, and children are ... children.) My question was about him: "Austin, aren't you worried? Doesn't it scare you at all to drive a large moving van in wintry conditions? I've seen trucks tipped over on the side of the road, especially on large stretches of highway where the wind tips you over - like in Wyoming. It doesn't scare you?"

"A little," he answered, "but think of the stories I can tell."

Ultimately, we didn't take him up on his offer, and our move worked out for the best. But Austin's reply has lingered with me. It's flippant. It's fun. It's not at all cautious but rather its antonym of reckless. It's a means of trying something for the helluvit, for the adventure, for the story to be told later. Austin lives like that. I don't. Nor do I want to - well, I do ... but I have obligations that require a constance and a stability, and anyway, my circuit pack is wired differently than the Austins of the world. But I admire from afar, tip my hat toward and give a smile to the ones who do live like there will be a story to be told later.

Today in Church we sang a hymn with its second verse stating: "...Like the great and good in story, If we fail, we fail with glory. God speed the right. God speed the right." It made me think of my short conversation just a year earlier and the similarity-but-with-a-twist. God's ways are constant and stable and righteous yet require us to step outside of our cautious/just fit-in with the crowd natures to try living differently than the world around us - nay, not "try" but "do"-ing what the world in general mocks at, points at, and laughs at. He asks that we live differently than the party-going, promiscuous, "reality" obssessed life we view on our t.v.s and than generalize into the "everyone's doing it" world. I could go on but I won't. My point is made. Anyway, what if we tried to be "like the great" Daniel of the lion's den fame or David - the little geek who defeated the steroid obssessive-compulsive junkie giant or even Esther who didn't worry about what was politically correct in her kingdom and answered her uncle's question "who knoweth whether thou are called unto the kingdom for such a time as this?" with actions-speak-louder-than-words found on the front of the latest hollywood rags. What if we tried doing what is right and "if we fail, we fail with glory" thinking of the story that could be told ...

God speed the right. God speed the right."