You Are Now Entering The Jungle

As a kid, my mom would often take me on a great adventure. Would there be lions, tigers, or bears? Oh yes, quite possibly: even a wild elephant, or a T-rex. Was there danger? That too: my very life could very well be in peril! What about enemies? Yes: ‘Charlie’, 'Jerry', or the 'Ruskies' might show up, other times it was Ninja’s, Martian’s, or even Slestack’s.

'Where did all of this occur?', you may ask. It occured on our trips shopping. You then might say shopping wasn't like this for you. For me, every trip was a fantastic journey into my little noggin. Be it Sears, Lazurus, K-Mart, or any other forsaken store that my mom would knowingly drag my sister and me into, she would go with a plan of purchasing clothes or other items for our family, or friends of the family: my agenda was to dream about all I could be.

We would arrive and my eyes would go wide. “Stay here! Don’t go too far away!” She would say in that authoritative voice which meant she was very serious, but with a smile that said I am saying this because I love you. I would blindly nod my head because I was already far away in my own gigantic world.

I still recount the smell of all of that leather, polyester, rayon, and cotton. In the large metal racks that were like rows of trees in the thick jungle, my mind would wonder. I would get inside one of these imagination stations and pretend I was hunting or being hunted. Sometimes, in the secret places inside these magical racks, there would be my spaceship and I was traveling to a distant planet.

I would be stirred by an occasional “Are you nearby Douglas?” My name went from 'Dougie' to 'Douglas' as a function of how much authority that my mom needed at the time. Reality was back in my midst. “Yes mom!” with a heavy sigh (here comes the other shoe). “Get out of the racks honey! Those are not toys.” Says who? I sure loved them. By whose definition of ‘toy’ was she referring?

In a voice of defeat I would say, “Okay!” Slowly I would crawl out of my spaceship: my best plans foiled by reason. But there was still the jungle to deal with. Making my way through the densest parts on my safari, I would move about from rack to rack. Hunting some nemesis of my small African village.

Reality would interrupt again, but this time it was me: “Where am I?” It was an odd question, indeed! I was in a jungle hunting an enemy with a nefarious face I had not yet seen. No wait! I am in the clothes section of a department store! The better question was not “Where am I?”, but rather, “Where was my mom?” Panic would settle into my bones and a timid “Mom?!” would come out of my otherwise rather boisterous mouth.

The cry would get louder “MOM?!”, I couldn’t see her, and I couldn’t see over the racks of clothes. Every turn I would make, I would run into another rack, impeding my path of movement as well as my line of sight. Maybe she left, I would think. Maybe she was angry and didn’t want to answer my cries of help. Maybe this was her plan all along: to leave me and live the better life that she earned by putting up with me for all of these years. I could feel my heart pounding harder and harder. Many times I felt like just sitting and pouting, but I had to keep moving. I am, after all, a survivor of the jungle.

I once heard or read somewhere that to survive a charging lion you don't need to run the fastest, you just need to not be the slowest! This day, I determined to myself, the lions will not be feasting on me (oh what about reality? where had it gone?). Lesser children would sit and cry, but I would keep in motion to maximize the chances of some adult noticing a kid whose attention span was completely lost.

“Honey?! Where are you?” It was the calmest, greatest voice that this child could ever hear: my focus returns.

“I am over hear Mommy!” With all my fear of being abandoned, and all of my wistful playing, I had wondered a whole two rows from where she was. You see, my mother always kept track of my sister and me. I couldn’t see beyond the racks that impeded my vision, but my mom could. She was looking out for me all along.

With a bag of purchased items, she would swoop down and hug me like it was years since we parted ways: home was in her arms.

How far is this from my relationship with God? Unlike me, He can see the proverbial forest from the trees, yet I don’t always look to Him for direction or as my true compass. I am prone to wonder. He too directs me not to go to far from Him, yet I scurry about, fighting my own dragons that curiously look like windmills.

Life distracts me, and I can’t always see Him. How many times has the panic of being lost, forgotten, overlooked, or abandoned crept into my life? But in those times when I find Him again, He is there waiting with a hug and a welcome like none other. Through my free will, God has allowed me and I am permitted to roam around, yet His eye has never left nor has He forsaken me.

Thank You, Lord! And Thank you, Mom!

-Doug