You may remember our road is getting a makeover. It’s been in a state of disrepair since June 2018. It’s now March 2019. It’s not done. In fact, the road is closed. It will be closed until April 1, which somehow seems appropriate. They completely barricaded the top of the road from C Street down. B Street, which splits off of Olympic Hwy. North, is torn up, too. There was a backhoe sitting in the middle of that street last I checked. The only way in or out is at the bottom of Olympic Hwy. North, past the erstwhile light at 7th. The construction company put out cones and a “Road Closed” sign. Just before Pine Street, there are 2 cones spaced slightly far enough apart to let a car drive through. That’s where we enter and exit. Beware, dear reader. Cops randomly patrol the street. Ask me how I know.
Every day, I drive up and down the street. It’s been graded and ground down, layered with gravel. The swale is dug out against the concrete curbs which were poured last summer. They smoothed the pedestrian path. Saturday morning, Dakota and I took a walk to explore. It was 20-something degrees.
Dakota photobombed many pictures, picking up random pieces of construction debris in her mouth. Birds sang above us. I couldn’t resist how lovely the sky looked, so snapped a few of it. I saw no one. As I crunched along the gravel, I observed the progress made so far. I thought about the rather large hassle this has been to everyone who uses this road or lives along it.
And then I considered that we as people are all under construction. We don’t wear signs on our forehead. But we really should, because we’re all in different stages of being remade. Frankly, it’s a hassle to engage with someone who is in the middle of a crisis. They drain your energy, time and good humor. They flake out. They cast about for anything or anyone stable to keep them from drowning in the moment. They have good days and bad days, sometimes seemingly put together and others like they fell into a well and barely escaped.
I resemble all of those. I’ve had good days and bad days, and that includes with hair. I’ve caused the people I love most to tap out emotionally. I’ve flaked out. I’m learning to extend more grace to others, but especially myself. Looking perfect and acting perfect when your heart resembles chewed-up asphalt is exhausting.
The street is going to be great when it’s all finished. So are we. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to be a work in progress. In fact, as long as we’re alive, that’s the state we’re in. If we can hold on and trust the process to God, letting ourselves learn from mistakes and course corrections, we will eventually emerge as complete and finished. In time.
Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. – Ecclesiastes 3:11