Parking Details

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Yesterday was a big day for me, a day I had been waiting for a long time. Like walking by a construction site and the guy driving the giant Caterpillar Destructo Excavator invites me over to drive his rig for an hour or two. One brother to another.

No need to worry, he would of course give me the requisite fifteen minutes of hands-on training needed to be an immediate expert with the various hand and foot controls. After completely destroying the two stories of new construction that did not need to be destroyed, I would then drive the Excavator out onto Atlantic Avenue where complete strangers would randomly flag me down to come and destroy their million dollar homes.

Man food of the mind, folks, a veritable banquet.

Yesterday I fulfilled one of my Man Hopes to be on the parking detail at Spring Branch Church. I had been invited to help before but for various reasons had not been able to help. Perhaps I had stubbed my toe or drank too many cups of joe or didn’t want to make it so. Or perhaps I merely had contained my Manly Needs in this area.

Whatever the case, last week I was once again invited by Jerry Gallinedes – whose name might as well be Greek its so hard to spell – to help with the parking detail and, giving in to the inevitable, I agreed. Soon the list was passed around by way of email and there for all to see, my name appeared next to an amazing title: Midfielder. To say I was excited would be to say that a dog was excited to find a large steak bone recently grilled with two days worth of meat left on it. Of COURSE the dog was excited, as was I; my tail was wagging.

Here at last my name was written in the Parking Hall of Fame, and as yet I had done nothing. Even so, they knew who I was. I counted for something and felt my pride expand within me like helium engorging the blimp that would soon soar over the little people crawling so slowly down below. Not that there’s anything wrong with little people.

I showed up at the proper time and already the butterflies were raging inside of me. Not quite the pterodactyls of old that filled me prior to a world championship event or my first date, but still they flew within me. How would I do? Would I embarrass myself? Would I embarrass the church? Actually, I could live with embarrassing the church, but was deathly afraid of doing something so stupid that I would forever be branded as “that idiot in the parking lot.”

But then I thankfully remembered that I had no feelings and was hardly ever embarrassed. And so the butterflies were beaten back like baleful banshees of bucolic blackness. I don't think bucolic belongs before blackness but I believe I'll leave it behind.

I met the other men of the parking detail and we were given our equipment. Yea, verily I say unto you, our EQUIPMENT. Men hearken for equipment and badges and gear and uniforms to fit in and be part of a team. And since last I checked (this morning) I am a man, I hearkened for all of the above. And so on the eighth day God said, “I shall make a parking detail and I will give them mighty weapons and tools to use for my people. And they shall light the way and make clear the paths.” And it was so and God said, “That is good.”

First my vest. Not just any vest folks, heavens to mergatroids no. Now some would look at the vest and say, “So what, it’s just yellow plastic with Velcro and some reflecting tape.” And to those unworthy cretins I would say no, wrong you are, so wrong. You shall never wear this vest chosen for God’s chosen parking people. Which means he won't choose you, so park it and listen up.

My vest was beautiful, but I noticed that Harry looked much better in his vest than I did in mine. He looked sharp, while I looked like a penguin wearing a vest three sizes too small. So I did the only right thing and whined about it. Harry promptly took off his obviously oversized vest and traded with my tiny shrunken little vest. We looked exactly the same as before, proving that the vests were uni-sized and I was larger than Harry. Just more for God to love people, more to love.

All was forgotten as I received my Walkie-Talkie. And not just any Walkie-Talkie, but a “working” one. That is one that works with batteries and stuff. I spent a good part of the day saying random things on the walkie talkie. Like telling Jerry I had never felt closer to him even though we were at opposite ends of the parking lot. Parking lot man love logic.

Since we were all wearing Santa hats, I shared how Santa did not appear at the manger until well after the shepherds had left. This fact is left out in the Bible, but I have always felt it must be true in my heart and perhaps in my gall bladder. So I shared it over the radio and heard the silence of the tears the men were weeping over the idea of Santa coming to visit the baby Jesus with a sleigh full of bodacious toys. Either that or they just didn’t know what to say…

And then there was the light saber. To some it was just a lighted parking wand, but I knew the full potential hidden within. Taking it in my hand for the first time, I held if up and felt the surge of electricity shoot down my arm as I yelled, “The force is with me!” Turns out there was a short in my light saber, but we fixed it.

Armed with instructions, light saber, vest and Santa hat, we marched out to our allocated spots. My hallowed ground as the midfielder was way back in the lot. I was the man that waved them forward after Jerry had met them and waved them through after inspecting their trunks and undercarriages for leftover presents, weapons and fruitcakes, the edible type or the two-legged type. I was their hope and salvation as they looked into the darkness with no clue where to park or even why they were there. I gave them hope and salvation. I was the drive by church for them at that moment, the incarnational Jesus with a light saber.

I frantically waved them forward, using the proven first century method of “come to me” where the wand and the other hand is thrown down and then up and “over the shoulder.” Jesus used this method to bring the really big crowds to him, using wands powered by the holy spirit instead of batteries. Environmentally friendly.

Once they came the real artistry began. Here was where all my dreams came true. Because as they approached my position, I would wave them over into the lot. But not just any wave, oh no. Style and panache, cute and cuddly, brave and soldier-like, silly and clown-like. Knowing which style to pull from the bag for any given car was part of the plan. Behind the back, under the leg, down on one knee, hitting it out of the park homerun, the pitching wedge. I melded with the driver and knew just what to give them from my blacktop stage.

Never pull out cute and cuddly for a Mercedes 560 SL. Nor shoot a salute to young kids in a pimped out Volkswagen Beetle. Its all about knowing the right thing to do all the time for each person. I was ALIVE and thrived in the moment as each person in each vehicle saw me and thought to him or herself, “what a fine American.” And so I was, there in the parking lot for the 3:00 and 5:00 services on Christmas Eve at Spring Branch Church. It was a magical affirmation of my life, another goal achieved, another moment to remember and cherish. I'm not ashamed to say I cried nearly the entire time, though it could have been sweat.

I put so much into this job that God assigned me, I nearly fell asleep in church. But I rallied and returned home to write this story and others. That was when I realized my wrist hurt, and that I was dealing with a pretty serious case of Carpel Tunnel Syndrome. My amazing light saber had done a deadly deed on my wrist and just typing was now a hardship. Ack, the things we suffer to do God’s will! To be a parking detail soldier meant to give your all and I did.

But that was not all the damage that had been done. I had lost ten pounds by standing and jumping and pumping the cars into place. My right bicep was tired and torn from the constant beating it had endured as I stood so brave and alone on the blacktop. Even now as I write this it pulses and throbs and is twice the size of my other arm, making me another buffed out Fiddler Crab Midfielder of the parking detail.

Last night I dreamed of parking cars in a giant church parking lot, my light saber sending out huge beams of light that could be seen for miles. Cars came to my beacon like moths to a flame as I stood twenty feet tall, amazing and huge, reliving the dream that had been lived hours before on the hardtop of my church.

In the end I was once again reminded of how good my life is and how God uses me all the time in ways that fulfills all my Manly Desires. Once again I was reminded that it is good to be a man.