You ever have one of those days? One of those Rhino Days? One of those days like the inimitable Jim Carrey nails as Ace Ventura in this scene? One of those days in which you struggle with sanity or your own low level of functionality, struggling just to get that first cup of coffee to your favorite easy chair? Struggling NOT to kick your black Lab puppy for the very same things things that, just 12 hours ago, so endeared you to the pathetic monster?
It may start out by your noticing that something is a little uncomfortable, somewhere inside. So you accommodate this discomfort, thinking, ‘I can still function, even though _____ __ ______ _______ __ _______. I’ll just compensate for it, like I have so many times in the past.’
But then the discomfort seems to grow, and you make further accommodations, releasing more items from your To Do List. “THAT will have to wait until tomorrow,” speaks a familiar voice.
And the discomfort expands further. And you reach for the handle on the escape hatch inside the rhino, and the dang thing is broken. ‘I know this worked before, like, yesterday and the day before and the day before,’ you think, ‘Why the fudge can I not get out of this funk in the same way that it usually works?’ And you’re all hot and sweaty and naked inside your rhino. And the hydraulic lines break, spraying your naked body with hot hydraulic fluid. ‘At least the oil smells good,’ you think, trying to remain positive. Until it’s third degree burns, and it’s charred flesh that you’re smelling, as you’re being boiled in oil.
And your Christian friends tell you, “Then Praise God for the smell of your own burning flesh. It smells like meat cooking, doesn’t it? You’re hungry, aren’t you?” And you have some less-than-holy thoughts about these Christian friends. You think, but you would never say aloud, ‘A little help, here!?!?’ You would never say it aloud because good Christians are NOT supposed to complain. Good Christians are NOT supposed to have bad days. Good Christians ARE supposed to have enough faith to faith their way out of these rhinos. Good Christians don’t get into rhinos in the first place. And they CERTAINLY DO NOT talk about being inside of rhinos. (But, apparently, they DO stand around and watch as other Christians, the WEAK Christians, extract themselves from rhinos.)
And so you struggle and you struggle and you struggle, and, just at the moment of complete exhaustion, you plop out of the rhino’s backside. Naked. Onto a cactus. And, after you arise and have removed most of the cactus needles from your bare feet, you start out on your trek for that second cup of morning coffee. And the long, hot desert floor is covered with Legos.
You ever have one of those days? I don’t. I don’t even know what the heck I was talking (writing) about. I don’t know where those words came from. Nobody saw me type it; you can’t prove anything.