Pops in the (Amusement) Park. Thanks Dad.

When I was about 14 years old, I had a huge crush on a girl who was a few years older than I (henceforth referred to as Jane since she still lives in Charlotte). Our families were vacationing separately in Myrtle Beach (anyone remember The Patricia?). One afternoon a bunch of us were heading to the Pavilion (a classic era amusement park). I was thrilled when Jane wanted to go ride some rides with me. 

There was only one problem: I get sick on amusement rides that go in circles. Real sick.

So... we came to this ride called the “Rock ’n’ Roll Express” that looked like the picture above, except that instead of the blue base, several of these two person cages were suspended and connected and went around in a circle. So basically, you would sit facing each other, and the cylinder you were in would rotate, spin, and jerk you constantly... while you were also traveling around in a circle like a carousel.

Jane was so excited. I, not so much. But I wanted to be with her, so I prayed something like, “Ok God, here’s the deal: please don’t let me get sick on this ride, and I will eat my vegetables without being asked for the rest of my life.”

So... they strapped us in. Jane and me. Facing each other. Her laughing. Me laughing and praying. Then the ride started.

About 30 seconds in, I knew I was in trouble. I uttered the most intense and sincere prayers a 14-year-old with a crush has ever uttered: “Ok, God, forget about the veggies. I’ll never do anything wrong ever again.”

45 seconds into the ride I knew that God was working in mysterious ways. All the blood drained from my face and my stomach felt like I’d swallowed a Castor Oil cocktail with a fish intestine chaser.

Then I threw up. A lot. Did I mention that “The Rock ’n’ Roll Express rotated around violently and that centrifugal force works as well with vomit as with water? Who knew?

So, there I am strapped in to a chair facing the older girl that I had a crush on. My mouth is open and am getting sick all over her (and me) while being forced to look straight at her the whole time. 

She starts screaming like a bunch of Sleestaks are in the cage with us. She screamed so loud that they literally stopped the ride. She and I are covered in vomit head to toe, and as soon as the guy opened the cage, she had her seat belts off and bolted out of the cage still screaming. I get off the ride and EVERYONE in a two-hundred foot radius is staring at me or laughing or both. 

I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom and went to the corner stall. I was content to live out the rest of my days right there without ever going out in public again. I would be known as The Pavilion Monk in the Corner Stall. Saint Vomitus. I knew I would never marry after this—especially not Jane—so being a monk suited me just fine.

Awhile later, I hear my dad’s voice in the bathroom.

“Chip?”

“Yeah Dad.”

“Are you ok?”

“Not really.”

“Need anything?”

“Can you get me a t-shirt from the Gay Dolphin?”

“Ok.”

Five minutes later, my dad handed me a new t-shirt. I threw the old one away, put on the new one, and decided that I wasn’t ready to be a monk just yet, even though I knew Jane and I probably wouldn’t be getting hitched after this.

Dad showed up that day at just the right time while I was still covered in vomit and hiding from the world. It was by no means the only time my dad rescued me, but I think it’s the time I remember the most.

So thanks, Dad. Thanks for being there. Then and now.

Happy Father’s Day.  I love you.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.  Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die.  But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:6-8