I’d love to have a pit crew. Like they have at the Indy 500.
Driving around in 200 circles (500 miles) can be interesting, but the real action is on pit row. As drivers pull off the track, the crews jump into action. Changing the tires. Refueling the tank. Wiping off the windshield and anything else that needs to be done. In three seconds.
A pit crew can accomplish more in three seconds than most of us do in an afternoon. Now that’s precision. That’s coordination. That’s support. Can you imagine what it would be like to have your own personal crew like that?
I could use one. Since turning 50, my health hasn’t been great. Nothing life-threatening, but it seems like rarely a week goes by when I’m not making a trip to one doctor or another. I’m on so many different kinds of vitamins and medications that I’ve given up trying to pronounce them all. For the first time, I find myself pondering my own mortality.
Interestingly enough, when folks talk about mortality in the Bible, they talk about The Pit. Many ancient Jews had no belief in the afterlife other than some watery, shadowy, sleepy realm called Sheol. This restless place was where you went when you died, and it’s referred to many times in scripture as The Pit. I would much prefer eternal paradise to eternal insomnia, but I have no plans to visit either destination for a good long time.
Now that I think about it, maybe I already do have a pit crew. They’re the ones that keep me running. Doctors, counselors, pharmacists, nurse practitioners, nutritionists, these and many other professionals are all part of my pit crew. My circle of friends, my extended family, they’re on the crew, too. Colleagues, church family–all these folks are waiting in the wings to provide support and keep me going. Now that I list it out, I see I’ve got an enormous pit crew. They’re not always three-seconds fast, and they aren’t always certain what to do, but these folks — many who don’t even know each other — are here for me.
When I think about it like that, I’m less inclined to complain about the next appointment on my schedule. Were it not for all the tune-ups these folks provide, I’d be a wreck. I’d be parked out at curve number three, trying to figure out how to change a tire.
God, thanks for my pit crew, keeping me out of The Pit. Thanks for the folks who’ve kept me running all these years. I’ve got a good many laps ahead of me, so I’ll keep the pedal to the metal…
until I see the checkered flag.
Have a great week,