I know this goes against some safety standard set in someone's mind, but it truly isn't more dangerous than walking in bear country or crossing the road in a city. I've depended on the hospitality of strangers too often to ignore an outstretched thumb.
Kirt and I just celebrated our anniversary, which reminded me of when we had to hitchhike 60 miles on our honeymoon. Whoops.
More than once I've had to extend a thumb hoping someone who wasn't scary would be hospitable. That might seem unnerving, but here is what I've learned about life so far: everyone gets hurt and dies regardless of how careful we are.
Asking for or offering hospitality is always a risk, but no greater than isolating oneself and dying of loneliness and boredom.
That brings me to my favorite word perhaps of all time: SKOOKUMS.
I love this for three reasons:
1. It's the name of the metal recycler where all the abandoned cars dumped in the church parking lot go after a ton of hassle and money. I appreciate the reminder when I stop by there that nothing stops "being" just because you haul it away and get it out of your sight. This is the graveyard for metal where it is collected and transformed into something new (or a pile of parts waiting).
2. Skookum means "strong, brave, powerful."
3. Skookum also means "a woodland monster kind of like Big Foot."
It's #2 and #3 I want to focus on, even though I'm eternally grateful for #1.
I wonder what would happen if we renamed Holy Spirit, Holy Skookum. It would be nearly as fun to say as Holy Ghoooost, but it would also give some grit to the pallor of words like spirit or love.
Maybe I'm the only person who thinks "love" and "spirit" tend to be empty and ethereal words. They are nice to say or put on cards, but they don't necessarily keep your feet moving when the world is crashing. They don't give one the backbone needed to extend and accept hospitality to strangers let alone those we deal with daily.
I feel like most hard parts of life and relationships require a swift kick in the butt to move out of comfortable numbness or unhealthy systems. We are willing to live with so much hurt and destruction if it means we can avoid putting on big girl panties and facing the darkness.
That's the gift of Holy Skookum, a blend of courage and a creepy woodland monster. I kind of dig imagining the Holy Spirit as a giant, hairy monster who walks beside us with the power and courage to live without lies and numbness.
The love we see in the person of Jesus is actually pretty terrifying so I feel better with Big Foot beside me than Casper the Friendly Ghost.
Or I'll be honest, I picture Chewbacca and that's kind of the image I need to strengthen me to speak up, to face brokenness with truth, to reach out to a stranger or a loved one. That's the courage I need to live in relationships based on forgiveness and grace, not disregard and numbness.
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