I’d Rather Ride the Spider

[dljbsp]

 

There are people who like thrill rides. Not me. Never have… Period.

 

When my sister graduated high school, Dad decided we’d all go to Rocky Point Park to celebrate. Big day.

 

Chowder, clam cakes, crooked midway games, the smell of fried dough clinging to everything. Rocky Point had a kind of charm that felt like it could either hug you or give you tetanus, depending on the ride.

 

My sister, Dawnlynn, had a plan. “Come on,” she said, “just this once — for me.” The ride in question? The Spider.

 

Now if you never had the joy of being thrown into the spin cycle of doom, let me explain. This thing had eight long black arms, each with two little metal cars at the end that spun independently. So it didn’t just spin — it spun while it spun. Some genius thought that would be fun.

 

 

Rocky Point - Spider

I was thirteen. She was five years older. She smiled. I got on. And within seconds, I hated everything. I screamed.

 

I yelled. I swore I’d kill her when we got off. I must’ve said it ten times. She laughed. I think she spun us harder just to make me suffer. That’s what big sisters do.

 

But that wasn’t the scariest moment I’ve had with her. Not even close.

 

Years later, things got serious. My little brother, Aaron — he’s eleven years younger than me — was going in for a heart cath. He was in his thirties, but he asked us to be there. Not Mom and Dad — they were out in Idaho. Us.

The siblings. Just in case.

 

We were with him during recovery. Just sitting there, making sure he was okay. Then they sent us back to the waiting area. Something wasn’t right.

 

A few minutes later, a call went out over the hospital intercom. Not his name — just a wide, open call asking for all available cardiac staff to report now.

 

People started running. Staff appeared out of nowhere. It was like watching emergency choreography. Everything moved fast, too fast. I sat there frozen. It felt like one of those roller coaster drops that keeps falling, only this one didn’t stop.

 

No screaming. No joking. Just prayer.

 

I prayed hard. I begged Jehovah for strength. For calm. For my brother’s life. And for my sister — because I could see it on her face. She was trying to be strong for me, for Aaron, but I knew. She was barely holding it together.

 

So I prayed for her, too.

 

Aaron made it. What happened was rare, but not unexpected once they saw the pattern. Later procedures were handled better because of that day. Still, every time after, it was scary. Always scary.

 

I’d ride The Spider every single day of my life if it meant never going through that again. That ride — spinning, lurching, gut-turning — was nothing compared to watching someone you love teeter on the edge, knowing there’s nothing you can do but wait and pray. And if life really were some twisted ride we had to board over and over, Dawnlynn would probably still laugh.

 

That’s just her. Somehow she always finds the humor, even when I can’t.

 

Sometimes I text her a joke. Just something dumb. Even though she’s miles away, I swear — I can hear her laugh.

Clear as day. It’s one of those sounds that sticks with you.

 

Jehovah promised us something. He said: “The former things will not be called to mind, nor will they come up into the heart.” Isaiah 65:17

 

Maybe I’ll forget that ride with my sister someday. Maybe I won’t. But it won’t matter. Because we’ll all be there.

 

Together. No pain. No fear. Just joy.

 

And maybe even a little laughter.

[Timl1980]

I am terrified of heights...plus all that spinning would get me sick!🤢 But my foibles aside...thank you for taking us on a journey into your thoughts and feelings. I agree, I would rather do that every single day than lose one of my family members...and that includes all my spiritual family.

 

I think the reason why we would endure that ride is due to the fact that, at the very least, it's a safe terror.

 

We know we will be getting off the ride...back on solid ground, at some point.

 

But with health concerns...there are no guarantees...no point in which we know the ride will end. (Minus the hope of the New System)

 

And by praying, you did the only thing that was left...you turned it over to Jehovah. 

 

Very well written, and thank you for sharing!

[Dolce vita]

Yes, a great talent for expressing what is sometimes so difficult to say, because to say it is to bring it to life each time, with its sensations, its dizziness, and its anguish.

With the AM, the GB has prepared a remarkable, tailor-made program to help us precisely in this geography of the heart and the unspeakable. We want to forget, and Jehovah promises, we will forget. However, we'll never forget Him!

 

I'm glad things are going as well as possible in your family, David. It's always impressive to see how Jehovah is there for each of our brothers and sisters around the world. Thank you.

[dljbsp]

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Edited yesterday at 12:26 AM by dljbsp

[dljbsp]

13 hours ago, Dolce vita said:

 

I'm glad things are going as well as possible in your family, David.

 

1 Kings 10:7

. . . I had not been told the half. . . . 

Jehovah sustains us. Ps 55:22