Riding Colossus

We all know about roller coasters. Millions love to ride them. Others more sensible - such as myself - prefer to watch them while having feet planted firmly (and safely) on the ground. They are the star attractions in amusements parks, and usually have the longest lines of eager riders waiting to jump into trains of open cars that hurtle them across metal tracks, up steep hills, and down heart-stopping, stomach-lurching drops. Some have spirals and twists, and some have loops. Old school coasters begin with the links of cars being drawn slowly up the first steep hill, with the clackity-clackity of the gears beneath as the cars are ratcheted steadily upward until they reach the pinnacle - suspended for a moment, then all cars are pulled back to earth by gravity, veering off sharply mere feet above the ground. Other more modern rides have a rocket propulsion that shoots the riders (in their little cars) out like a circus clown from a cannon before spinning and looping the screaming occupants (in their little cars) on the tracks.

But then there's another kind: it's called "Life". I do believe that if roller coasters were around when Jesus was here, He would have used them in His parables. Yes, I know that He already knew there were going to be roller coasters, but if His disciples had a tough time grasping parables of things they knew such as farming and fishing, what the heck would they have done with a metaphor based on Matterhorn or Ninja? But our lives are metaphorical thrill rides. Like the literal roller coasters, each of us have a different set of hills and valleys and twists and turns. Some of us get through relatively smoothly, while others seem to go on a harrowing ride with such nightmarish drops that those watching can't believe that the rider doesn't go flying off into space. At times, our coasters are in the dark, like "Space Mountain". Other times we can see the giant loops, like "Montezuma's Revenge". And then there's the feeling of dangling out there like the aptly named "Scream". Unlike those coasters in amusement parks and carnivals, however, is that each of us is in the front car, and it's only suited for one human being - but a place for a Savior, should we invite Him alongside. The other unique and extraordinary thing about our life rides, is that God has given us the chance to sit in any of the chase cars behind another in their own coaster - as many as we want for as long as we want, and without leaving ours.

A year ago, I was on my own particular brand of coaster, with Don in tandem, as we were found ourselves in a place we did not want to be under circumstances we didn't like because of situations beyond our control. We each had those who rode with us from time-to-time, but often folks were so caught up in hanging on in their own spirals that they had to move off for a while. But I had a friend on Maui who always seemed to be right behind me. Juli reminded me of how I wasn't alone as she pointed out Jesus. She would then make me laugh like a fool until it all felt okay. It wasn't that she didn't have her own crazy ride going, as a wife, mother, business woman (3 separate businesses, no less!!), and full time employee at a Maui resort golf course. But Juli never begged off, staying right behind me until Don and I returned home. In the months that followed, Juli and I rode on each others roller coasters from time to time, but since it was mostly the ordinary ups and downs, we didn't have such a need for the company.

In Southern California there is a monster coaster by the name of "Colossus", a giant old school wooden ride that dominates the skyline of Magic Mountain. What makes this unusual is that there are two tracks, with two separate fast moving trains. In April, Juli found herself shot into her own Colossus, as Willy, her husband of twelve years, was diagnosed with cancer. This wife and mother of three young children was strapped into this ride of breakneck speeds. There would be occasional stretches of the slow ascent, the ominous sound of her train clicking upwards as they waited for results, pain relief, treatments, and the medical professionals that would bring them. Juli's husband and kids each rode their own harrowing track, but Juli's had few more twists and turns as she tried to juggle her kids' and husband's needs, her job, and battling her fear of the unknown ride ahead. But she knew about the same car that ran beside her, with only the One rider. Juli knew that God was there. In the way that only God can do, He was also on the seat beside her - but God, being a gentleman, would only be there at her request.

In the cars that followed Juli on her harrowing roller coaster were friends and loved ones who could do nothing more than support her from behind. Many jumped on right away, but then jumped off when it became too scary, too painful, or their own roller coaster ride demanded so much that they had nothing left to share. Others watched from a distance, too nervous to step on. Still others offered to ride along - but only if Juli rode her coaster as they thought she should. None of these are bad people, they just couldn't do it. And even when there were those who were willing, Juli still rode alone with none beside her accept the lone rider in the car next to hers.

It didn't take long for it to be apparent that the ride would not be a long one for her husband. On Mother's Day, when most moms were brunching and lunching and receiving their well-deserved accolades, Juli was rushing the rapidly weakening Willy to the hospital. The doctors on Maui determined the best idea was to fly the two of them to O'ahu. As the news became more grim, Juli's husband became more calm and content, while she, as she put it, became a "blubbering mess." I pointed out that Willy knew he was going to get off his coaster very soon, while she was strapped in to her accelerating ride because of her love for him and the vows that she took. After a few days, Juli and her husband came back to Maui. His ride was leveling out and slowing down, while hers was going up a slow, terrifying hill. And when Willy's ride came to an end, and his Savior gathered him gently away, Juli plunged down the steepest, most terrifying hill yet - yet neither Juli nor Willy had any fear during their separate changes. They each knew that Jesus was there.

Today we said goodbye to Willy in our formal, unified way, yet each has done so on their own. Many have jumped into the chase cars behind Juli in her seemingly runaway roller coaster, helping with food, kids, and various needs. But after a while, many will have to beg off again, as life takes over and the crisis fades. But many will not. They will continue to love and support Juli, riding along behind, doing what they can to make her life easier. Riding behind is the best we can do. But Juli knows, and leans on, the lone rider in the train on the next track - who is the same companion in the same car, and by her side...always.


I'm adding a post script, which is almost a confessional. I began this a few (VERY few) weeks ago when Willy first was diagnosed and Juli described her life as a roller coaster. She still does, in fact, but not with words. I'll ask how she is, and she just gives me a wry grin and moves her hand up and down like the train on coaster tracks. I had intended to finish this, and describe what I saw as they went through the difficult treatment process - but I just couldn't seem to finish it. When I got a call from our pastor's wife, and mutual friend early one Sunday morning, I knew that God had wanted me to wait, because the story had to finish before I could. But after that...after that, I still struggled. I told Don I had never written anything that meant more to me, except for my mom's obituary and eulogy. I wanted to honor my dear friend, and share in a way that might be meaningful to some.

I also have the chance to tell you more how much these two were the very picture of sacrificial love during their last days together here on earth. When Willy was in the hospital on Maui, she drove every morning to the hospital and didn't return until late - forty-five to fifty minutes each way. When he was in O'ahu, she refused to leave his side to shower or sleep in a real bed (two or three hard chairs arranged was all she had). Their daughter, Seraya, was the Lana'i Princess for the Lei Day celebration at her school the Friday after they flew to O'ahu, and Willy insisted that he be home to watch his only daughter for this once-in-a-lifetime event. The following weekend, Seraya had a softball tournament in back on O'ahu, and Willy again insisted - this time that Juli go with their daughter for this fun weekend of competition and fellowship. It was the Saturday of that weekend that the Lord beckoned Willy home. There was no selfishness to be seen. Willy wanted to give this final gift to his beloved wife, and Juli had the selfless grace to accept it. They LIVED their vows!

Don and I were blessed beyond measure to be close witnesses to such an intimate part of a family's life. Through it all, their home was never a place of foreboding and death, but a place of joy. There were tears, to be sure, but there was more laughter. And there are more tears in store, as Juli and her children work to discover, as she calls it, their "new normal", but their faith is unshakable.

And that's all I have to say, now. I just wanted you to know...