Loch Ness Memories

I had the delightful opportunity to spend a day off at Cedar Point on Friday. For a roller coaster enthusiast like myself, I have to say that I got quite a thrill from some of its impossibly designed coasters that I'm sure would make even Mr. Newton scratch his head on how they could work alongside his laws of physics.

After a day at "the Roller Coast," I can't help but remember how I was first initiated into the world of these thrill rides. I was about seven years old when my family was vacationing at Busch Gardens Virginia. While I had experienced a few rides on a "baby coaster" at a local amusement park, I was now just tall enough to ride the "big kid" rides and from the moment we walked into the park, it was impossible to ignore the bright yellow, steel frame towering over the rest of the Olde World . . . the Loch Ness Monster.

I could see the glimmer in my dad's eye, itching to tame the beast, and I could feel the knot in my stomach as I felt the tension between pure fear along with a compelling urge to conquer it. I knew if the day went on, the lines would get longer and my courage would get smaller, so I made the bold declaration. "Let's go, Dad."

We practically walked on to the ride, being one of the first people in the park, and I didn't talk much during the short wait to get in the car, as I was focused on trying not to overtly display my terror. When the large, black harness came down over my 48-in. body, I began to have second thoughts, however. What was I thinking?!? The only thing that brought me out of my tailspin panic was feeling my dad's reassuring hand on my knee, and hearing him say, "You're gonna be fine. I think you're really going to like this."

The next 2 minutes were an upside down, loop-the-loop, death-defying drop delight. I came out of the line a victorious warrior and couldn't quit talking about it to my dad. I was relating every turn, every hill, and every loop that took me to a new level of roller coaster fanaticism. He excitedly joined in where he could, which wasn't too often since he didn't actually "see" much when his glasses fell into the lake on the second loop (he forgot to take them off in his concern to make sure I was okay).

I remember the feeling I felt when he told me that when we went through the dark tunnel we were actually turning over in corkscrews. I knew that if I had known that ahead of time, I would have never gone through with the ride. That knowledge would have thrown me over the edge on the fear factor. Knowing that my dad was with me, and that he said I'd like the ride, however, made my ignorance bliss, and afforded me the opportunity to enjoy an adventure that I would have sadly missed out on otherwise.

In the years since, my Loch Ness lesson has come back to me, serving as a very tangible picture of the thrilling ride on which my Heavenly Father has taken me. I confess again, that had He told me all the twists and turns that the ride was going to take, I probably would have bailed out a long time ago. In the midst of those disorienting, dark tunnels, however, my fear of the unknown is replaced with exhilarating anticipation when I choose to ignore the track ahead and instead listen to the reassuring voice of my Father. It's been a wild ride, but one that I wouldn't trade for anything. Almost makes me want to be a line-jumper to get in the front for more rides to come.