Part Two
Our time in Sacramento passed all too quickly, and soon my friend was driving us back north to home and waiting arms. When we got to Lake Shasta, the sun was shining and the scenery deliriously beautiful...or should I have said deliciously? Anyway, I was frantically snapping photos of trees, lake, mountain and fluffy clouds, when we suddenly pulled into a rest stop. My friend pointed out a particularly nice view of the lake and invited me to take aim and fire my camera at will. “How thoughtful,” I thought mistakenly.
On wobbly legs I got out and went over to a barrier that had been erected to prevent stupid people from a misstep and sliding down the rocky slope to a fence that had built to keep even more stupid people from falling the rest of the way into the lake. The fence was messing up a perfectly good picture. I looked at the barrier, a railing set atop a series of posts. The railing was wider than a railroad track, and it shouldn’t be that difficult to step up and balance myself on it for that perfect shot. I looked at my friend and raised my eyebrows in question. He raised his eyebrows in answer, and I knew he was thinking that it was up to me, but “don’t be stupid!” I stopped thinking and therefore can’t be held responsible for stupidity.
I forgot that I was 70, that my legs were wobbly from inactivity, that I was encumbered with a camera in hand, and that my friend was ten feet away from being where he could catch me if something went wrong. I went for it with gusto and in slow motion, as I gracefully toppled over the rail and planted my arms and legs firmly on to the rocks and gravel. They gently cushioned my fall, and caressed my skin so unexpectedly that I bled everywhere in the thrill of the moment.
In unison, two voices asked if I was all right. My friend and another tourist blended a note of concern with amusement that is hard to describe. “No, I’m not all right!” I snapped, “but there are no broken bones.” I smiled my warmest smile with the carefree abandon of having done just what I had planned, which was to treat my fans with an impromptu show, worth a thousand pictures!
The rest of the ride home was not boring at all. My friend treated me to a description of how I had entertained him with anxiety, dilemma, entertainment, and fear. He took me on an unscheduled tour of Ashland, and we spoke of how we would liked to have spent our time there if it was summer. In my mind I wasn’t feeling very smart, but my limbs were yelling about how smart they felt. Actually, time went fairly quickly and we arrived at the cousins’ place where my pickup waited. And they had coffee and cherry pie waiting for me.
I waved goodbye to my friend, and then spent the rest of the drive home reflecting on how good he had been to me. He could have saved me from the embarrassing fall, but the effort would have broken the rules of true friendship. So he took the risk, and allowed me to take mine. As I look back, I recognize many ways in which he did his best to make that trip enjoyable and safe for both of us. I wonder how many times he did things differently than if he were alone and had been free to do just what he wanted. But I know that friendship is one of the most important gifts our Creator has given us. How grateful I am for this particular friend!
