Never an us

Other than on a field of play, an athletic field, I've never been an us, not really. Nah, I've always been a want to be, a want to blend, to swab, to dab at the corners. Some think I'm a rebel, always pushing for change and such, but the truth just might be I simply want to fit in somewhere.

Nah. To be one of them, I had to become, and I never really got the hang of that, so pushing for change really was just pushing to fit in.

Oh, there were magic moments. Truly magic moments, times where I was transformed -- almost without my knowledge or even my will. I was, then I was more or I was different or I simply wasn't what I once was. I'm not sure you've ever been that way.

This magic moment was such self-effacing lyrics. These were words of wonder, but ultimately just a lyric that reached into the black hole of sweet space and something became where nothing was. Hence the magic of the moment.

Love does that to you, like syrup on fresh, hot pancakes. Springsteen was a decade away from making something wonderful occur in his work, when I walked headstrong into first love.

Then the magic happened. When I was 15, I got my driver's license. It was a license to drive, sure, but it also was a license to become ... to become a participant in Meridian, Miss. Prior to that, I had a license to hear about what as happening in the town, but I wasn't one of those who actually participated because I couldn't yet drive by myself.

But when I finally passed the dang written part of the exam, and I finally drove the highway patrol examination person (that had to be the official title surely) around without running over cement parking spots and such, I finally, and I mean FINALLY was a participant.

My dad, he of the strict-ness quota, just let me loose on the world. One minute I was a watcher. The next I was a participant. One minute I was sitting it out, whatever it might be. The next minute, I was one of them, driving 13 miles from our house in Lizelia to the Chick 'n Treat on eighth street, pilfering fries from unknown young ladies like one of the "cool" guys. I wasn't one of the cool guys, but I was like one. One minute I was a school bus rider, the next I was playing Creedence's John Fogerty singing 'bout ol' Lodi, a place I would never drive to.

Getting the driver's license meant I was just passing through instead of being trapped in. Getting the driver's license meant I was on my way, not stuck at best, in reverse at worst.

Of course, by the time I was old enough to understand what some of "it" meant, I was stuck there again.

I say all that to say this: The notion of being a participant never really leaves us. Sweet Melissa pours her enticements onto us, and growing up becomes so dang hard, but by the time the Allman Brothers have quit being the Allman Brothers, well, life has done gone and quit itself.

At some point, we try our best to be one of them, but truthfully, most of us are always going to be a very tiny cog on the wheel of life. Some of us are never going to be more than that, and in the end that's quite alright because at some point we will realize that God's love for us is far more important than being a participant.

Most of us want to be a part of the in crowd, a part of the in, just a sliver of the crowd. But ultimately we will realize that big ol crates of contentment aren't necessary, and like Paul we will be content with who we are, whose we are, and what we have.

From the time I could drive till a few minutes ago, I've been looking to fit in all my life. God has, through all that time and circumstance, made sure I understood what I was fitting in to. The best I could hope in the long run is to never disappear into the mists.