Roller Coaster

Some experiences leave you a different person.  I like them when they are short and thrilling, like a roller coaster.  Often we ask, as we are banged around by the roller coasters of life, when the roughness will end.
    Some time ago, I thought I was simply attending master class.  Our professor had gathered us in Reed Lab of the music building.  Our studio has more musicians than ever this semester, and we were cramped inside that tiny room.  To compensate for the lack of space, we left our backpacks and instruments in the hall.
    I’m just going to preface the next development with a question:  Do you sometimes hear that little voice in your head that tells you not to do something stupid? At that moment, the voice said: take your backpack inside.  Your laptop, checkbook, heavily marked copy of The Book of Mormon, and two journals are not worth risking.
    Sadly, it took experience for me to learn that, indeed, the risk was not worth it.
    An hour later, as I sat in the security office, I was told that students often fall into a false sense of security at BYU-Idaho.  Drifters easily sneak into our buildings to find belongings left unguarded, like my backpack.  Those thieves can be opportunists, preying on students, or (sad to say) students with deplorably sub-par standards.

    I did my best not to complain, but it seemed this rough patch would last forever.  Although, I know that roller-coasters are not made of downs only, or else nobody would get on in the first place.  Life is an inevitable combination of ups and downs.

A week later, something was delivered to the music office.

    After all the wishing that I had not ignored that little voice, pining for my laptop, and grudgingly replacing my supplies, sudden elation threatened to burst all the anger.  But I refused to get my hopes up until I saw it.  How little faith I had. 

   I’m happy to say this article was typed on the very laptop that went AWOL to who-knows-where for a whole week, and was returned with everything else.  Little did I know how soon the upward climb would come. 

    But let me be honest: if I had never seen my backpack again, things would have been fine.  Many who will read this article have lost more than things--the kind of curve that affects the entire remainder of your life.  Opportunities, close friends, and family are things that, once they are really gone, can never be replaced.  Getting on the ride of life, you know that twists and turns are going to happen.  Maybe what I was supposed to learn from my little experience is to remember to be glad I am on this ride, no matter how rough it gets.  

   No matter how rough it gets.

   My hope in life is that, when I go, I will go with everyone I got on with, grateful for every curve and fall.