Anytime the train rolls through some sad Podunk town, it’s almost guaranteed there will be at least one person waiting with a phone or camera to record our passing visit.
I’ve never understood how they know when to show up, or if they just wait around for hours in anticipation, but I admire their tenacity and commitment.
More than once, I’ve prayed for them as their lives enter my view for a moment, then vanish into memory just as quickly.
I may be projecting, but I often feel a deep kinship with those strangers.
I can usually see a longing in their eyes to flee the shitty little world that imprisons them, and it reminds me of the many long years of my life when I felt the same.
I, too, was stuck in oppressive, shithole towns in the middle of nowhere, desperate to break free and wander to wider spaces beyond the familiar.
It’s shocking how long it took me to escape that narrow existence, and I could never thank God enough for getting me the fuck out.
Even now, I bristle at the thought of being limited and confined, as I have been for much of my life.
In hindsight, it’s been necessary: Only when your soul has been sufficiently smothered does it begin to burn with an unquenchable fury to release those who are also trapped and desperate for hope.
What galls me the most is that so many people enjoy being suppressed and captive. As a citizen of the United States, that has become abundantly clear.
A good chunk of humanity finds comfort in keeping their worlds small, limited, and controlled, surrendering their lives to two-bit demons who squelch their power for the illusion of safety and normalcy.
For those people, I have no sympathy—they’ve chosen to bargain with darkness, and their lives are an abhorrent waste.
But for those lone lights who yearn for something greater, whose souls hope and pine for freedom and autonomy, my heart is with you. May God grant you the release you seek.